Monsters
by Briar Elwood
Summary: Frank Westen was the first person I learned to hate. He taught me that some people aren't human. Some people are monsters that pretend to be human. And it's a lesson I will never forget. Michael/Fi, Michael/Samantha. Honorable Mention 2010 BN Fic Awards.
1. Prologue

I remember the first time I started to really realize how much of a monster my father was. As a rather young child, the tears on Ma's face and red of my father's face didn't make sense to me. I didn't know what alcohol was, what it could do to a person. He never made it obvious what he was doing to Ma and he didn't do it that often before Nate joined the family. I suppose that's why Nate was still able to join us. It hadn't gotten that bad yet.

I was about six years old. I was sick with some bad bug: one of the ones you get to stay home from school with and watch television all day but have a bucket sitting beside you the entire time. I knew it was around my bedtime and didn't like the idea of sleeping out on the couch so I'd gotten up to walk to my bedroom when I suddenly got nauseous. Before I could do anything about it, my innards were all over the floor and I joined them on all fours.

As the light headed feeling started to take over, I heard a terrible roar. A strong foot connected with my stomach and I rolled, pain now joining the all over ill feeling. Completely confused, I peered through teary eyes to see my father standing above me. His face was red, his eyes glazed, and his hair and clothes mussed. I'd never seen him looking so horrid and I didn't understand. Later I'd realize how drunk he must have been but at that time in my life I couldn't help but wonder what kind of monster had taken over my father.

It was hard to understand him through his slurred and gravely voice, but he made it clear through other methods that I was to clean up the mess I'd made. He didn't care that I was sick, tired and in pain and when Ma tried to come to my rescue, he simply smacked her hard across the face and bellowed at her as well.

To be honest, it wasn't long before I expected the treatment. However, I refused to let him hurt Ma and Nate if I could help it. When he beat up on me, I'd just curl into a non-responsive and protective ball until I grew up and learned ways to defend myself. It didn't change the fact that Frank Westen was the first person I learned to hate. He taught me that some people aren't human. Some people are monsters that pretend to be human. And it's a lesson I will never forget.

A/N: This is the beginning of what will hopefully be an epic. I've got a few ideas swirling around in my head and it's starting to really come together. For a while, however, updates will be spread out as I'm still trying to figure out the specifics of where this is going, I'm still writing Burn Collar, and I'm in school (and the semester's coming to a close). However, I hope that doesn't deter you from reading!

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: So you can thank the fact that it's pouring rain today that you actually get a chapter so soon. I decided the story was going to start with a nice Miami thunderstorm and just... started... writing. I had no idea what I was going to do with it as I've got the last half of this story completely figured out and had no idea how to get there. But I like where it's going so far. And I'm totally beyond excited for what I have planned. :)

The pounding on the roof was starting to grate on Michael's nerves. It'd been raining torrential amounts for over twenty four hours now. The power in the loft had gone out only a couple hours after the storm had started. It was fine for the first twelve hours: Michael simply caught up on some sleep and worked out a little. After that, he went to the fridge for some yogurt and realized the fridge hadn't been on for a while so everything in there was warm. Luckily, it was mainly yogurt and beer so nothing spoiled but it still wasn't exactly appetizing.

After a while, Michael glanced out the window to see how bad the storm really was and winced. A flash of lightning illuminated outside pretty well for a good five seconds but Michael could barely make out the Charger through the rain. It looked like he'd be stuck in the loft alone for a while.

After Michael had gone through the entire place and reorganized it, cleaned every gun he had with him twice, and even fixed the stool Fiona kept complaining about being wobbly, he sat down, bored. The rain pounding on the roof only seemed to get worse as time went on and the lack of power was limiting his options of keeping himself occupied.

Then his door opened. Michael jumped up, snatching his SIG and aiming, not recognizing the intruder in the darkness. The intruder took a startled step backwards, raising his hands defensively.

"Whoa! Hey, bro, it's just me!"

Michael lowered the weapon, taking a deep breath. "Nate. What the hell are you doing here?"

Nate closed the door behind him and stepped closer so the brothers could actually see each other. Nate was soaked to the bone and looked rather akin to a miserable puppy.

"You know, one of these days you really should learn to greet people a little more politely," Nate said, ignoring Michael's question. He mussed his hair, water flying everywhere. "Do you have some dry clothes I could change into? These aren't drying any time soon."

Michael couldn't argue with that. As Nate starting peeling his clothes off, Michael went to find an extra pants, boxers and a shirt for his brother, calling over his shoulder,

"When did you get to Miami?"

"About a half hour before the storm started," Nate replied, patting his naked body down with a towel Michael had thrown at him. "Did Ma not tell you I was coming?"

Michael frowned, thinking, as he handed Nate the extra clothes. Now that he thought about it, he seemed to remember his mom mentioning the possibility of Nate showing up.

"She might've," he replied. "I've been a bit preoccupied--"

"With spy stuff, yeah, figures," Nate muttered as he pulled on Michael's clothes. Michael watched him for a moment, his frown deepening.

"Why in the world are you here, Nate? You couldn't have just waited until the storm passed?"

Nate raised an eyebrow, glancing at the ceiling as the pounding worsened. "It's been over a day, bro. It's not passing for a while."

Michael pursed his lips. "You're not answering my question."

"I didn't drive, if that makes you feel any better," Nate told him, walking over to the kitchen.

"Tons," Michael drawled sarcastically. Nate opened the fridge, frowning when the light didn't turn on.

"Is the power out?" he asked, grabbing a beer, looking unhappy a the prospect of a warm drink. Michael walked over, eyes locked on his brother sternly.

"Nate."

Nate looked up at the tone in Michael's voice. "Look, all right, bro! Calm down! It's not that big of a deal."

Michael didn't look convinced. "You walked all the way from Ma's house to my loft in the pouring rain and it's not that big of a deal?"

Nate cocked his head back and forth and took a swig of the beer before answering. "It could be nothing."

"Could be."

"Look, I don't know!" Nate said, raising a hand defensively. "It's just..." He paused, looking like he wasn't so sure about why he came anymore. "Ma's been acting... strange."

The passion firing up Michael simmered down slightly and he faltered. "How?" he asked, voice quieter. Nate shrugged.

"I don't know. It's hard to explain. Talking less. Seems distracted. I mean, it could be nothing but..."

"It's not going to be nothing, Nate," Michael said, voice low. Nate snorted quietly.

"Yeah, well, you're the paranoid spy, of course you're going to say that."

Michael glared at him for a moment before walking around the counter to grab a warm yogurt. "Have you tried asking her about it?"

"Of course I have, bro!" Nate exclaimed, sounding offended. "She blew me off, told me she was fine."

"When did you notice she was acting strange?" Michael asked, sitting down by Nate, who shrugged.

"When I got here. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized she'd been sounding strange on the phone, too. Haven't you noticed?"

Michael was silent for a moment, thinking. To tell the truth, he hadn't, but like Nate had said, the more he thought about it, the more he realized... Heck, usually she wouldn't have let him forget Nate was coming and Michael could barely remember her mentioning it this time!

"And obviously it was bugging you enough--"

"That I walked all the way over here in the pouring rain, yeah," Nate finished for him, nodding. "Plus, she was kind of getting on my nerves."

Suddenly something occurred to Michael and he looked up at his brother, frowning. "You left Ruby with Ma?"

Nate pursed his lips. "Her name's Ruth, bro."

"Right," Michael said dismissively. "You know the two of them really don't--"

"Ruth stayed in Vegas," Nate interrupted. "I'm totally aware Ma and her don't like each other. That's why Ruth decided to stay home."

Michael nodded, relaxing and taking another bite of the yogurt. "Probably a good idea."

Nate nodded as well, standing up and pacing around for a moment. "So, uh. You gunna talk to Ma?"

Michael looked up. "Yeah, of course. Just...." He glanced out the window. "Not tonight. We'll go over in the morning, whether it's raining or not. Okay?"

Nate smiled gratefully. "Cool. Thanks, bro."

Michael shrugged, setting the yogurt down and walking over to his brother. "Hey, she's my mother, too."

Nate looked down to the beer in his hands. "Yeah, I know. It's just... there were a few years there when I had to try to help her out on my own, you know?"

Michael winced at the stab of guilt that pierced his gut from Nate's words but Nate didn't give him time to reply. Instead, he looked back up, a spark in his eyes.

"So we gunna share a bed tonight like we did way back when?"

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: *skips around happily* I love this story...

It was still pouring the next morning but it had lightened up enough that Michael didn't feel uncomfortable driving himself and Nate to their mother's house. As soon as both of them were awake and ready for the day, they hopped into the Charger and drove off. The drive seemed short, but the silence pressed down between the brothers harshly.

Michael opened the door quietly in case Madeline was still asleep. He frowned at the sight before him and pulled out his SIG. The place wasn't trashed but there were a few things here and there that were out of place. Nate glanced around in surprise, cautiously closing the door behind him.

Immediately, Michael hurried to madeline's bedroom and Nate checked out the other rooms. There was no sign of Madeline. Michael walked back to the dinner table, throwing a swift kick to one of the chairs.

"Damn, Mike, do you--"  
Michael whirled around to Nate. "You shouldn't have left her."

Nate widened his eyes. "What?"

"You left her in the house alone," Michael said, voice low and steady.

"Dude, she _lives_ alone!"

"She was acting off," Michael argued. Nate threw his arms into the air.

"How was I supposed to know that her acting weird meant she was going to get kidnapped?"

Michael didn't reply. He knew he had no right to blame Nate but he needed some way to release the panic. He'd always tried so hard to keep Madeline safe and disconnected from his work. Now all of his efforts seemed to have gone for nothing.

"I'll check out the garage," he muttered, looking for a way to get out from under the scrutinizing eyes of his brother. Nate watched him leave, frustrated.

Always. Michael would always blame him. Always blame and never trust. No matter how hard Nate tried.

Still grumbling under his breath, Nate pulled out his now ringing phone and answered it without checking the caller ID.

"This is Nate."

_"Hello, Nate."_ a woman's voice replied.

Nate frowned, going back to check the caller ID only to be answered with "Unknown."

"Who is this?"

_"We just wanted you to know your mother is fine. For now."_

Nate's stomach lurched. "What do you want?" his hissed, but found he was talking to static. Just then, Michael returned.

"Nothing," he grumbled as he replaced his SIG under his shirt. He looked up to Nate and frowned at the phone. Nate waved it at him.

"Just got a call about Ma."

Michael straightened, intently asking Nate for more details with his eyes.

"It was a woman. Told me Ma's fine for now. I tried to ask what she wanted but she hung up," Nate said quickly, trying to get back on Michael's good side. Michael nodded thoughtfully.

"I'll see if there's anything I've missed," Michael said. "You call Sam, he should just be over at the Reynolds' so he should be close."

Nate sighed but nodded. Even if Michael would never trust him, Nate would never stop trying.

XxXxX

They had found nothing to go on. Sam had come over within fifteen minutes of Nate calling, eager to help. However, there was nothing to do. Nate tried calling the woman even though they all knew it was pointless. Eventually, Michael left to go back to his loft and let everything out on his punching bag. It was just starting to get dark when Fiona walked in the door.

Michael stopped attacking the punching bag when she walked in and walked to the fridge to get a yogurt. She watched him wordlessly as he began to eat, sitting down. After a moment of silence, he growled.

"Are you just going to watch me eat, Fi, or was there something you wanted?"

She shrugged, coming up beside him and resting her chin on his shoulder. "Just wanted to make sure you're all right. Sam said you were a bit worked up about this."

Michael sighed, closing his eyes. "It's my mom, Fi, what do you--"

"I understand," she interrupted. "I just thought you could use some stress relief." She pressed her lips lightly against his neck to emphasize her words. Michael stood up and moved away smoothly. He held her disappointed eyes steadily.

"Not tonight, Fi," he said quietly. She slumped and daintily walked back to the door.

"Fine," she called over her shoulder. "Don't overwork yourself."

"Fi--" he started, but stopped, thinking better of it as the door slammed shut behind her. With a sigh he turned back to his yogurt but couldn't bring himself to take another bite. Letting out a bellow of frustration, Michael swiped up the yogurt and hurled it. The yogurt container landed on the floor close to the wall, yogurt covering the area. Michael slammed a hand on the counter and leaned on it heavily, breathing hard.

When the sounds of someone walking up the stairs reached his ears, Michael groaned. He wasn't going to get any peace, was he? Taking care to avoid the yogurt on the floor, Michael glanced out the window to see who the visitor was. When he didn't recognize the woman through the still constant rain, Michael frowned and pulled out his handgun, walking quickly to the door. Aiming steadily, he flung open the door.

The woman gave a short surprised laugh, raising her hands defensively at the gun trained between her eyes. Michael's eyes raked her, but there was no way he recognized her. She had long auburn hair and wore black glasses with white stripes on the side of them. She was average height and average weight for a woman her age, as far as Michael could tell. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties and belonged in a small rural town rather than a large city like Miami. She wore jeans and a nondescript t-shirt, which clung to her body because of the rain. She smiled slightly at him, keeping her hands in the air, but making a casual gesture with them.

"Michael Westen, correct?"

Michael didn't reply. How in the world did this woman know who he was and where to find him?

"Can I come in?" she asked. "It's rather cold and wet out here."

Michael stayed silent. The woman sighed.

"Look, I'm here to talk to you about your mom."

Michael fought to conceal his surprise but the woman smirked slightly. "She's fine," she assured him. Michael still didn't speak. The woman sighed again, but heavily this time.

"May I _please_ come in? I'm not some villain, Michael, I promise. You can search me. I just want to talk, see how we can fix the issue we have here. Frankly, your mother gets on my nerves."

Michael paused, eyes raking the woman one last time before he stepped to the side, allowing her to step inside, but keeping his gun trained on her the entire time. The woman hurried in gratefully, rubbing her arms for warmth. Her eyes fell on the mess of yogurt before she turned back around to Michael, who followed her into the room. She eyed the gun briefly.

"You think you could lower your gun?"

Michael stayed silent. She frowned.

"I'm not talking about this with a gun pointed at my head. I'm doing a favor for you, Michael. You could at least be civil."

On this, however, Michael refused to be swayed. If this woman was involved with the kidnapping of Madeline, he was not going to take chances. When the woman realized this, she rolled her eyes, took a step forward and attempted to wrench the gun from Michael's hand. He resisted, making a move to push the woman off, but she pulled a knee up to his crotch hard and he gasped, bending over and stumbling backward. His foot hit the yogurt and he slipped, falling hard to the floor, the gun clattering from his grasp. Before Michael could retrieve it, the woman snatched it, aiming it at him as he lay in the puddle of yogurt.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," she said, voice less harsh than Michael would've expected and more pleading. "But if your brother doesn't pay back his debts, we're not going to have any choice."

Several questions popped into Michael's mind. First was wondering why she sounded like she was pleading with him. Second was who was "we." Third...

"Nate?"

The woman nodded and then shrugged. "Maybe you could help him out with paying the debts back. After all, she's your mother, too. And maybe, after all of this is over, you should talk to him about his gambling. Maybe then you could avoid something like this in the future."

She lowered the gun and threw it onto the bed. "We'll be in touch," she finished and walked out the door.

Michael didn't move. He could feel the yogurt soaking through his clothes, but he didn't care.

Madeline had been kidnapped because of Nate. Nate owed someone money and they were bad enough people that they kidnapped Madeline to get the money back. While this shouldn't have surprised Michael, it did. Nate had made it seem like he was getting better, turning over a new leaf. Hell, he'd even gotten married! But, apparently, it was all a farce.

A/N: *waves* Hi. Uhm. Don't kill me? :)

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Whoa. Okay, this was random. Totally wasn't expecting to update for a few more days. Then a plot bunny bit my muse...

"Hey... Michael..."

I looked up, surprised to see Nate walked through the door of my hotel room. I didn't see much of my family nowadays, even though I was temporarily back in Miami. The hotel room was enough of a message to them that I wasn't going to be here long. And I didn't exactly want to see much of them, to be honest.

"Nate," I stated, standing up. "What are you doing here?"

Nate cocked his head back and forth uncomfortably. "I need some... uh, some help."

"Yeah?" I asked, sticking my hands in my pockets. "With what?" However much I didn't enjoy my family, I was always willing to help Nate and Ma out. Dad had screwed up our lives enough, I wanted to help as much as I could.

Nate scratched the back of his head before answering, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor in front of my feet. "I, uh, got into some trouble with some guys. Owe them some money."

"Some guys?" I repeated. "What kind of guys?"

Nate shrugged. "I don't know. Gangster types. Not hardcore, but still unhappy about not having their money."

I frowned. "Why do you owe them money?"

Nate muttered something that I couldn't quite make out. I craned my neck towards him.

"What?"

"Gambling," he repeated, louder. I sighed, closing my eyes and slumping back a little. I'd known Nate had started gambling. I didn't know much other than that, but I had been afraid he'd get himself into trouble eventually. Looks like that time was now.

"How much?" I asked, pulling out my wallet from my back pocket. Nate grudgingly told me the amount. I stared at him for a moment before pulling out all of the cash in my wallet and handing it to him. Nate stuffed the cash into his pocket and grabbed my hand, shaking it hard and giving me a firm pat on the back.

"Thanks, bro," he said, then hurried out of the hotel room.

That was the first time I bailed Nate out of a gambling problem. From then on, it got progressively worse. I soon learned to distrust him when it came to money. It simply burned a hole in his pocket.

A/N: So, by now, I'm hoping you realize I'm trying out a different style. Sort of "The Grapes of Wrath" style where the POVs can change. I'm not sure how many of these will be, but they're all related to the full story. How they relate may be painfully obvious (like this one), some of them may not (like the first one). I hope you enjoy this experimentation... :)

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	5. Chapter 4

"What the hell have you done?"

Nate and Sam turned from Maddie's kitchen table, bewildered as Michael slammed the door behind him. Michael ignored Sam's presence and headed straight for Nate. Recognizing the look of a charging rhinoceros, Sam quickly stood up, directly in Michael's way.

"Whoa, Mikey, what's up?"

Still Michael ignored him, though he stopped charging. "I thought you'd started your own business! Turned over a new leaf! But that was all act, wasn't it, to get me off your back?" His pointer finger was held out like a sword, ready to kill.

Nate stood up too, slowly, though, looking utterly confused. "What're you talking about, bro?"

Michael dropped his arm, dangerously calm. "I got a visit from Ma's kidnapper last night."

Sam and Nate exchanged shocked looks before turning back to Michael, who was still talking.

"She told me about your debt!" he yelled, pitch rising. "Dammit, Nate! Not only were you not getting any better, you were getting worse! And now you've gone and mixed with people who'd hurt Ma to get their money back! Is _that_ why you left Ruby in Vegas?"

Nate made a move to walk towards his brother, but Sam held him back. He gave Sam a half-hearted glare before speaking. "I don't know what you're talking about! Who is this lady?"

Michael threw his hands into the air. "How am I supposed to know? You're the one who owes her money!"

Now Nate actually pushed past Sam, walking right up to Michael as if daring him to pick a fight. "I don't know who she is. Contrary to what you may think, Mike, I have been cutting down on gambling. I don't know why this lady thinks I owe her money, because I don't. I don't owe _anyone_ money right now, I _have_ been getting better."

Michael scoffed, turning away in disbelief. Nate grabbed his arm, jerking him back around.

"You gotta believe me, bro."

Michael held Nate's gaze steadily, silently for a moment. Then, quietly, gravely:

"When would I have learned how to do that?"

Nate's mouth opened wordlessly, grasping for a reply. Before he could, however, the front door opened behind Michael, admitting Fiona in. Michael turned away from Nate quickly, storming toward the garage as Fiona slowly closed the door behind her, taking in the scene. When the sound of Michael slamming the door behind him resounded through the house, Fi turned to Sam.

"What's going on?"

Sam sighed, watching Nate walk to the living room and sink down into the couch. "Apparently Maddy's kidnapper visited the loft last night. Told Michael that she'd hurt Maddy unless Nate paid off some debt."

Fiona's eyes widened and she glanced at Nate, who noticed the expression on her face and threw up his hands in defense.

"I don't know who she is, what she wants, or why she says I owe her money. Because I don't. I've paid off all my debts. I've cut down on gambling, I swear."

Fiona frowned thoughtfully, turning her attention back to Sam. "What do you think?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I don't see any reason for Nate to lie, though..."

"Thank you!" Nate exclaimed. Fi glanced between Nate and Sam for a moment. Then she nodded shortly.

"I'll go talk to him."

"Huh," Sam huffed. "Good luck, sister."

Fiona pursed her lips at him and walked out to the garage. Michael was there, pacing back and forth, a hand on his forehead, eyes fixed on the ground before him. Fi watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Michael."

Michael didn't stop: it was like he didn't hear her. Fi bit her lip annoyedly.

"Michael."

Still he did not stop. Fi sighed, walking towards him and grabbing a hold of his arms. "Michael. Honestly. Breathe."

Michael glared at her. "My mother's been kidnapped, Fi. And it was Nate's fault. What would you have me do?"

"First off, I'd have you calm down. You know better than this," Fi said sternly. Michael opened his mouth to reply, but Fi shook her head and continued. "Second, you don't know it was Nate's fault."

Michael couldn't seem to decide whether to be enraged or bewildered. "I should've known you'd side with him," he muttered finally, brushing her off and turning his back to her. Fi bit down a growl.

"My goodness, Michael! What has gotten into you? Don't answer that!" she said quickly when Michael whirled around, the sword-like finger unsheathed again. "I find it a little strange that you'll trust a complete stranger, who's kidnapped your mother, over your own brother!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Michael asked. "Going by his track record--"

"As of recent, you should trust him this time," Fi interrupted, bitingly calm. Michael shook his head, an angry smile growing on his lips.

"You don't know Nate like I do."

"I know him well enough to realize that he looks up to you, Michael," Fi said, voice soft. "I've seen him try to live up to your high expectations. I've seen him try hard to change. I've seen him succeed changing!"

Michael shook his head, unwilling to hear her, but Fi wasn't about to give up.

"Michael. Why would he lie? He loves your mom just as much as you do. If he really did owe these people money, why would he lie and risk getting her hurt?"

"Because he wants to rely on me to pay them back," Michael said harshly. Fi was too bewildered to reply. Michael saw that she wasn't going to argue any further and headed past her toward the door.

"Call me if you need anything. Looks like I've got to scrounge up some cash."

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Fast update, you lucky dogs. It's because I'm avoiding working on my end-of-term papers. I'll do it tomorrow, I promise. Or maybe Monday. Heh...

Just one other note before we get to the story, however. I don't think I've had to go into this rant for this story yet and I realize this was a quicker update than usual but... I write and post fanfiction to get feedback. AKA: reviews. A little more than "fantastic job- continue" is always nice, but if that's all you can say, say it. Last chapter I believe I got a total of two reviews. I realize Burn Notice is a small fandom and it's hard to get reviewers, two is a little low even for BN. If I don't get reviews, I don't get motivation to continue writing. I have a novel I could be working on, thank you. :)

"Hello Michael."

On instinct, Michael pulled out his handgun, pointing it up the stairs to his loft at the source of the voice. The woman from the night before wiggled her fingers at him. Michael growled lowly.

"Do you have the money?"

"I'm working on it. It'll take me a while. I'm not exactly high on funds myself."

The woman smiled, beginning to walk down the stairs. "I noticed that. However, we're on a tight schedule here, Michael."

Michael shrugged. "I'm sorry."

The woman shook her head as she continued to walk towards him. "I'm going to need you to come with me. I'll take the keys to your car."

Michael didn't move, eyeing her warily. The woman sighed.

"You're so stubborn! Look, I'm not going to hurt you. Or your mother. Yet. I just want to go for a little ride. Trust me."

Michael thought it over. He had no idea what this woman was capable of or who she was, even. Giving her the keys to the Charger and letting her drive him where ever was a huge risk. After a moment, however, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the keys and dropped them in her outstretched hand. The woman smiled, satisfied.

"Good boy. Get in the car," she said, jerking her head towards the Charger. She handed him a burlap sack. "And put this on."

Michael eyed the sack unhappily for a second. He snatched it with a huff and turned to follow her to the car. Once he sat down, he glared at the woman one last time before pulling the sack over his head, ready to enjoy the car ride blind.

XxXxX

After being led out of the car, inside some building and sat down, Michael finally was allowed to take the sack off his head. Breathing in the somewhat fresh air, gratefully, Michael glanced around, eyes fixing on one of the other occupants of the room.

"Ma!"

"Ah-ah-ah!" The woman quickly stood in Michael's way, preventing him from getting to Madeline without passing her. Michael glared at her briefly before turning his attention back to Madeline. She had duct tape over her mouth and had her hands and legs tied to the chair she was sitting on. She didn't look hurt, though, just frightened. Her eyes were wide and watery, staring at Michael frantically like she was trying to warn him away. Michael's jaw clenched and he looked back to her kidnapper.

"Is this supposed to be motivation for me to gather the money faster?"

"Actually," the woman started, seeming a little too devious for Michael's liking, "there's been a change of plans."

Michael's eyes squinted, trying to discern what was going on. The woman smiled at the look on his face.

"Now, I know I may look like your average housewife with two children and dog, but I assure you, I'm not," she told Michael steadily. "It's a cat. And you know how crazy cat owners are." Her grin was getting to the point of maniacal but Michael's head was still wrapping around this new information. This woman had a family? He might be able to use that... But why did she tell him that?

"You're going to call one of your friends. Tell them what's going on and that you're going to negotiate terms for a few days and need to stay here. Tell them not to worry. If you do that, Mommy can go home. If not..." The woman's expression twisted into a mockingly pained look. "Well."

Keeping his eyes fixed on the woman, Michael pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial.

"Sam."

_"Hey, Mike. What's--"_

"I'm with Ma's kidnapper right now and she's going to let Ma go. I'll be staying here to negotiate for a few days," Michael explained, voice low and steady.

_"Whoa, you sure, Mike?" _Sam asked, shocked and concerned.

"I'm sure, Sam. Don't worry about me, just make sure you take care of Ma when she gets back."

_"Sure thing. But, really, if you need Fi and I to bust you out--"_

"No, Sam," Michael interrupted. "Just take care of Ma." Michael hung up before Sam could argue any further and slipped the phone back into his pocket, never taking his eyes off the woman's. She smiled.

"There. That wasn't hard, was it?" She clipped off a radio from her belt and turned it on. "We can take Madeline Westen home. Make sure she's comfortable."

Michael watched her clip the radio back onto her belt and turn her attention back to him. "Satisfied?"

Michael didn't answer. He simply looked back to his mom, who's eyes had gotten even wider at the prospect of having her son in these people's hands. Michael desperately wanted to know why that idea was so terrifying but knew he wouldn't get the chance to ask. They'd both be under constant survelliance until Maddy was taken home. Michael would have to find out for himself.

A/N: Faster update, but shorter chapter. Oh well. :) Things are really starting to heat up. I believe it's in the next chapter that I will either be mauled by hugs and kisses or many a manner of unpleasant objects... I'm pretty dang excited. So you should be, too.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: I love how persuasive I can be sometimes... 5 reviews, that's more like it! :) And just to show how much I appreciate it, I'm giving you a cookie called one of those weird chapters that's really short and a bit disconnected. :D

The day Frank died, Madeline didn't get the ominous, sixth sense feeling they always tell you about. She was utterly shocked when she got the call, telling her he'd been in a huge pileup and had died before the police had arrived. She wasn't entirely sure how to react to the phone call after hanging up. She stood stock still for a while, a strange mix of relief and emptiness welling up steadily inside of her.

Nate's reaction was a little more passionate than Maddy's. He heard the news from Maddy a little after she got the call herself and adamantly declared the world a better place. He softened marginally when Maddy got on his case for that, but pointedly told her he wasn't going to miss his father in the least.

At the funeral, both Madeline and Nate put on somber faces for the world. Madeline still hadn't quite figured out how to feel and Nate felt like a better way to commemorate Frank Westen's passing was with a party. Nate was well aware that guests thought their behavior was strange, but Maddy was too distracted to realize a more acceptable reaction to her husband's death would be tears. To tell the truth, she was more annoyed that Michael wasn't there than anything.

When Michael heard his father had passed away, he simply muttered "good riddance" and threw the funeral invitation in the trash bin.

A/N: ... Hi.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: I DID finish those papers, thank you very much. Well, there's a little editing to do, but I'm waiting until my editor gets back to me to do that. :) This chapter is longer than the weird chapters, but shorter than usual. But it's rather... uh, action packed, so I hope that makes up for the shortness. Also, updates should be quicker from here on out. Not only have I actually finally gotten to the part I've been building up towards and am beyond stoked for everything else, but next week is the week before finals. And I'm terrible at studying. And don't really take that many classes that require extensive studying anyway. And then I'm on summer break. And while I will be getting a full time job, I'm planning on a desk job. Where I can write all day. Sound like an idea? :D

After some big guy with a muscle tee took Madeline out of the room, the woman told Michael she'd let him rest before getting to business, took his handgun, and left the room as well. Michael tried to keep himself busy for a while but eventually realized the woman wasn't coming back for longer than he'd expected. Glancing at his watch, he realized how late it was, and decided it wouldn't hurt to actually get some sleep.

In the morning, he woke suddenly, alert and ready. He was still alone for another hour or so, but soon the woman returned. Her ever jolly demeanor was gone this time, however, and Michael scrambled to his feet, alarmed by the dark aura she had coming from her.

"Michael," she said, trying to throw up the carelessness but failing. "There's someone I'd like you to meet. I think you know each other."

Through the still open door behind her walked a man. The man turned to face Michael with a large smile on his lips and he spread out his arms to greet him.

"Son! It's been far too long!"

Michael stood paralyzed. Frank Westen was standing just feet from him, alive and well. He even still had that dark gleam in his eyes that he'd get when he was enjoying beating on his family before he'd... died... Dammit, how was the man still alive? How the hell was this possible? Did Ma know? Was _that_ why she'd looked so terrified?

"I'll leave you two alone," the woman said quietly, quickly scittering out of the room and closing the door behind her. Frank dropped his arms when he finally realized Michael wasn't going to rush into his father's embrace, but kept the unnerving smile.

"Good woman, she is," he said conversationally. Michael glanced at the door as if to ask if that's who Frank was speaking of. Frank nodded. "A mother'll do anything for her children, you know."

Michael's eyes widened. Suddenly what the woman had said the other day about her family made sense. She was pleading for help! Frank... Frank had been behind this all along and the woman was just a tool that he was using. A small monster that he'd created.

"Nate doesn't really owe anyone money, does he?" Michael asked quietly, wishing he could create more space between himself and his father. Frank shrugged.

"You know Nathan. He probably does, but he doesn't owe me any money." He chuckled softly. Michael shook his head angrily.

"Nate's been getting better. He owns a limo business--"

"And has gotten married to some Vegas bimbo," Frank interrupted, waving a hand at Michael. "I heard. That doesn't mean he doesn't owe anyone money. Old habits die hard after all."

Micheal didn't reply, still staring, trying to figure out how the hell Frank had managed to fake his own death, why, where he'd been this past decade and what he'd been up to. Whatever it had been, it couldn't be good. What did he want now? Why had he let Madeline go? Question after question ran through Michael's thoughts, almost making him dizzy from the speed.

He closed his eyes momentarily to clear his head and suddenly found there was a fist in his stomach. Michael flew backwards from the force, grunting from the pain. Falling to the ground, Michael realized the wind had been knocked out of him and he couldn't catch his breath. Frank grabbed the back collar of his shirt, yanking him to his feet.

"Old habits, you know," he hissed, his hot breath making Michael's eyes water. Michael coughed, still trying to catch his breath. He planted his feet firmly on the ground and wrapped an arm around to grab a hold of Frank's arm. Frank realized what he was doing, however, and threw out a foot, swiping Michael's feet out from under him. Michael fell backwards hard, hitting his head painfully on the concrete floor. He blinked wildly, not sure which of the three Franks to ward off as Frank delivered a powerful kick to Michael's side.

Now Michael was angry. Frank had treated him like this as a kid, Michael wasn't about to let him treat him like this as an adult. Not only was it slightly humiliating but Michael knew how to defend himself better. Dammit, he'd done this for a living! He'd been a spy for almost two decades!

Of course... Frank had been pretending to be dead for a decade. And who knew what he'd been up to.

Michael scrambled to pull himself to his feet but Frank gave him another swift kick, this time directly in the stomach. Michael began to curl in pain but found himself being forced back by a foot against his throat. Chocking against it, Michael grabbed Frank's boot, trying to pry him off. Instead, Frank only stepped down harder. An odd strangled sound left Michael's mouth and his other hand grasped onto Frank's other ankle in desperation for some form of solidity to keep himself in the conscious world. His efforts went in vain. Frank steadily pressed harder and harder against Michael's throat and it wasn't long before Michael's eyes slid up and he stopped struggling, limp and unfeeling.

A/N: ... I'm not sure whether to be terrified or downright excited for reviews...

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: For the few of you who actually saw the little thing I posted and have deleted, apologies. Mistake. But, hey, we're all human, aren't we? :)

Michael woke with a start, coughing harshly as air reached his lungs again. Frantically, he scrambled to his feet, looking around for Frank. To his relief, however, he found he was alone. Michael collapsed into the one chair left in the room, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. This was a nightmare.

Frank Westen was alive. Michael's mind whirled, thinking back to the day he'd heard. He tried to remember the details of the funeral invitation and the letter Maddy had included. Frank had died in a car crash, a huge pile up. He'd been dead before the rescue squad had arrived. Had the funeral been closed casket? It had to have been! Had Frank had dirty cops on his side? How? Since when did he have _any _connections?

People coming back from the dead was rarely a good thing. Take Larry, for example. Michael had told Fiona a part of him was like Larry and, truthfully, that part was also like Frank. Frank had raised him, the influence really was there. Madeline was right on the button when she'd said that if Michael hadn't gone to join the army he would've turned out a lot different.

Dammit, if Frank was like Larry, this could turn ugly. It already was ugly! Frank Westen was back from the dead. It took skill to live as a ghost and he'd been doing it for a decade. Why pretend to be dead anyway? Michael could understand a little if it was to break connections with the family but in that case he wouldn't be here. What did he want with Michael? There were so many questions and no answers!

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Michael stood back up, looking around the room. He patted his pockets to figure out what was left in them.

"Your phone and wallet are being kept safe."

Michael turned to the door, backing up as Frank sauntered in. Frank smiled at him.

"How are you?"

Michael bit back a harsh laugh. Frank rubbed his hands together, glancing mildly around the room.

"I have to admit, it's nice to see an old, familiar face again. Brings back memories."

"Warm, happy memories?" Michael bit. Frank laughed.

"Yes. Wish I could've seen your mother," he said thoughtfully. "But I don't think I would've been able to let her go if she'd seen my face."

Michael frowned. Frank caught the look and smiled again. "Oh, no, Maddy doesn't know. So she hasn't told your friends. Which is good, because that would ruin everything."

Michael raised a questioning eyebrow. Changing his expression was easier than talking. Every time he opened his mouth, he was afraid his voice would crack. This whole situation was too much for him to take.

Frank shook his head in reply. "Oh, no. That would ruin the surprise!"

Great.

Frank grinned at Michael and beckoned him over. "C'mon."

Michael didn't move. There was no way in hell that he was just going to willy-nilly follow Frank somewhere unknown. Frank sighed heavily.

"Do we have to do this the hard way?"

Michael paused for a moment, then moved to a defensive stance in reply. Frank raised an eyebrow, eyes raking up and down Michael before turning to shut the door. Without pausing, Frank whirled around, a fist flying towards Michael's head. Michael ducked it easily, moving away. Frank growled angrily and Michael tried hard not to shudder. That smoldering anger reminded him all to much of his childhood.

Frank bolted towards Michael, arms out as to prevent Michael from escaping, but Michael slid under one arm, falling back into the defensive stance. Frank chuckled darkly.

"This is a little more exciting now, isn't it?" he asked. Michael simply stood ready. Frank watched him for a moment, eyes critical. Finally, he straightened, reached behind him and pulled out a pistol. Michael's eyes widened slightly at the weapon and he fell out of the stance, trying to decide how best to disarm Frank. Frank didn't hesitate, though, and he aimed the pistol at Michael, letting out a round. Michael jumped, swearing loudly as the bullet hit it's mark of his foot and fell hard to the floor. Hissing in pain, Michael looked up to see Frank putting the pistol back in his pants and walking towards him. Frank reached out a helping hand to Michael.

"Will you come with me now? Or do I have to be even more convincing?"

Michael glared at Frank murderously before pointedly ignoring the offered hand and standing up. Frank looked amused at the anger and defiance radiating from his son but shrugged and walked over to open the door. Michael gritted his teeth against the volts of pain shooting up his leg and limped to the door, wishing desperately he had something more to work with against Frank.

"We'll get that bullet out of your foot first. Then we can get to business," Frank said conversationally as they walked down the hall outside the room. Michael wouldn't have replied even if he had something to say. The pain ripping up his leg was rather excruciating and Michael was having trouble thinking about anything but his foot.

Frank led him to another room that looked very similar to the one they'd just been in. This room, however, had a small table and two chairs on either side. Michael glanced around to gather in the surroundings but there wasn't anything else to observe. Frank gestured to the closest chair.

"Sit down before you damage your foot any further," he ordered. Michael gave him one last glare before sitting down. With a wince, Michael hoisted his foot up onto the table. Frank pulled out a radio identical to the one the woman had used the other day.

"Bring medical supplies, Michael has a bullet in his foot that needs to come out."

As they waited for the medical supplies, Frank watched his son, his stare strangely neutral and disconcerting. Michael ignored him, pretending to give his injured foot a closer look. When the medical supplies arrived, Michael was handed a bottle of alcohol, which he took a swig of gratefully and then bit down on his lower lip hard as his shoe was taken off and the bullet was pulled out. By the time it was out, Michael could taste blood, which he licked away, breathing hard. The man with the medical supplies bandaged up Michael's foot and left without a word. Once the door closed behind him, Frank smiled.

"Now. Business. A friend of mine is going to let you in on everything. I think you know her, actually," he said, looking all too pleased with himself as he practically skipped to the door and opened it. In walked a woman and Michael wondered mildly how many more surprises he could take.

It was Samantha.

A/N: Yes, as in his ex-fiance. Baha.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism.


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: First, for Crazy Computer's Vendetta: Sorry!!!!! I have two words for my excuse: Birthday. Boys. Yeah... I was a bit distracted this weekend. And the boys part wasn't even worth it. Haha.

For everyone else: What. The. Heck. I mean, honestly. AllOverTheWorld, you're forgiven, because that was my bad with the wrong chapter deal. Everyone else? How many days did I not update? And how many reviews did I get? I'll keep updating if only for Crazy Computer's Vendetta because I'm in love with her reviews. But I'm rather pissed off right now. I post to get feedback. Feedback= reviews. Anywho...

Samantha's smile was genuine when her eyes caught Michael's. Michael could only stare in confusion as Frank let himself out. Once the door clicked behind him, Sam walked up to the table Michael's foot was still resting on and set down the manilla folders in her hands. She looked up to Michael, still smiling.

"Hey. How've you been?"

Michael blinked, pulling himself back to reality. "Does he have Charlie?" he hissed, leaning forward. Sam's smile disappeared, falling into a frown.

"What? Who? Your dad?" She shook her head, seeming amused. "No, Charlie's still in Chicago. Your dad hasn't gone anywhere near him."

Micheal leaned back in his chair, not convinced. Sam, apparently, could tell, for she sighed heavily and sat on the table.

"He's a good guy, Michael," she said. "He's just... a bit messed up."

Michael laughed harshly. "He shot my foot, Sam!"

Sam winced, glancing at Michael's foot. "Yeah... sorry about that. If I'd known, I would've tried to stop him."

Michael glared at her, trying to figure out why she was here. How the hell was she connected with Frank? And why?

Sam was settling herself more comfortably on the table, giving the impression she was about to explain and it might take a while. Michael's eyebrows furrowed deeper as he waited.

"He's actually looking out for you," she started, gaining a loud guffaw from Michael. She glared at him briefly before continuing. "He's been following your career closely."

"What career? I don't have a job."

Sam sighed exasperately. "Yeah, I realize that, Michael. I mean he's been following your work. Ever since you joined the military, he's been pulling favors to keep tabs on you."

"Oh, so, my father has been stalking me?" Michael asked. "Sam, most of my work was classified!"

She shrugged. "I don't know how he did it, but he's been following you. He's been looking out for you. Trust me, I thought it was a bit creepy, too. But it's actually a good thing he's doing this. He keeps a close eye on anyone you associate with. For example, did you know Larry Sizemore's not dead and--"

"Yes. We've made contact a couple times," Michael growled, eyes fixed firmly on Samantha, willing her to give him something more to go on. She raised an eyebrow at the expression on his face but continued.

"Okay, well. You should probably do something about that."

Michael didn't reply. Sam met his gaze for a moment before nodding to herself. "Anyway. Did you know that Sam Axe is informing on you?"

"He already did that," Michael threw back without hesitation. "FBI. Or did Dad miss the bit where Sam stopped and I knew that he was doing it the entire time?"

Sam smiled, a small, amused but pained smile. "He knew. But that's not what I'm talking about. You realize that the Cubans have been interested in you quite a bit lately? They're just waiting for the right moment at this point."

"And you're trying to tell me that Sam's been informing on me to them?" Michael asked incredulously. "Why should I believe you?"

Samantha shook her head. "That's not all, Michael. Fiona Glenanne--"

Michael sat up, letting his foot fall painfully to the floor, anger surging through him. "Don't you _dare_--"

"She's been betraying you since the moment you met, Michael."

Michael could feel his nostrils flaring with rage and he fought to stay sitting, knowing he'd only hurt his foot even more. Samantha bit her bottom lip, seeming apologetic. After a moment, she slid off the table and reached to help Michael elevate his foot again. Michael yanked his leg out of her reach, feeling stupid at the childish act, but too angry to really care. Sam froze for a moment before standing up again and retreating back to her position on the edge of the table.

"I have nothing against her, Michael," she said quietly. "I know you may think I could be saying this just because I'm jealous but I'm not immature like that. When your father showed me the evidence, I wanted to help him. I don't want you to get hurt."

The rage radiating from Michael was smoldering. He continued to sit there, eyes boring holes through Samantha as she firmly, but sadly stayed strong under the glare. Finally Michael spoke.

"And who, can I ask, is she betraying me to?"

Samantha squirmed slightly before answering. "I know this may sound a bit random, but the Italian mafia."

Michael was silent for another few seconds. "What is he doing to you, Sam?"

Sam blinked, confused. "Who? Your father? Nothing, Michael! I have all the evidence right here!" she exclaimed, gesturing to the manilla folders. She stood up, picking the folders up and handing them to Michael, who took them cautiously, eyes never leaving her face. "Look over them for yourself," she said. Michael glanced briefly at the folders.

"I'm sorry," Samantha whispered, leaning down and planting a soft kiss on Michael's cheek. Michael recoiled from her, cheek burning at her touch. Sam backed away somberly and left the room without another word. Michael continued to sit frozen for another couple of minutes.

Slowly, unwillingly, he opened the top folder and began to read.

A/N: Yeah, I wouldn't believe Samantha, either, Michael.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism! AND THAT MEANS YOU!


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Only because I love you, am ahead in writing (yay two days of off finals!) and this is another one of those weird short chapters. This one might not be taken very well by many people, though...

Breaking it off with Samantha was one of the top ten hardest things I'd ever had to do in my life. It was rather ridiculous, to be honest, how hard it had been. I was a spy for heaven's sake, doing hard things, making hard decisions was my profession! Besides, I knew I was making the right choice. I was in love with someone else. The whole relationship made no sense whatsoever, while Sam and I's did, but...

Part of me always wondered if I should've given Sam another chance, especially after I had to leave Fi behind in Ireland. The only thing that stopped me from looking her up was the fact that I knew Samantha and knew she'd want anything but to see me again. When she showed up on my doorstep almost a decade later, I had had no clue of how to react. I didn't know whether to be terrified that she'd try to kill me or thrilled to see her again... especially since Fi had been standing just several feet away.

Saying goodbye to her again was almost just as hard as it had been the first time. Thankfully, this time I knew without a doubt I was doing the right thing. It was safer for her and Charlie to be far away from Brennen and it was safer for her and me for her to be far away from Fi. That didn't make the actual act of saying goodbye any less hard, though, however hard I made sure to hide it.

"You know... Charlie isn't yours... but he could've been."

I closed my eyes briefly as a shock of pain hit my heart. "Lot of things could've been," I replied quietly, forcing my voice to stay steady.

The touch of her lips on mine lingered longer than I ever would like to admit.

A/N: Now, if you've read any other Burn Notice stuff of mine, you know that I AM a Michael/Fi shipper. So no eating me for this. :) I just like adding in extra drama, okay? And I do like Samantha. I flipped when I found out Michael had an ex-fiance and almost destroyed my computer when she kissed him, but grew to like it.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: So... I've been productive today... In this, anyway. Not in studying for finals. I'm officially five chapters ahead of myself. Epic Win.

"All of this could have easily been forged," Michael said stubbornly, pointing at the manilla folders when Samantha returned. She smiled, amused.

"Yes, it could have," she replied. She waved another folder in the air before setting it down beside the old ones. "Here's more if you're interested. I'm just trying to help you out, Michael."

"How did you meet my dad?" Michael asked, ignoring the new folder. Sam shrugged, taking her seat on the edge of the table.

"He found me. Like I said, he did extensive research on everyone close to you. I guess he figured I was trustworthy because he told me what he found about Larry, Sam and Fiona, wanting my help to warn you."

"Why did he need your help?" Michael asked. Sam laughed.

"Would you have believed him? You're having a hard enough time believing me, Michael!"

Michael was quiet for a moment, seeing her point. He still wasn't convinced, however. "Why did he fake his own death?"

This question seemed to make Samantha uncomfortable. "To be honest, Michael, I don't know," she replied quietly. "And, no, I haven't asked him. Though he may be a good guy, he does kind of creep me out sometimes. There are some things I just don't need or want to know."

"But you're still willing to work with him," Michael stated, tone annoyed. Sam threw him an irritated glare.

"For you, yes! How many times do I have to tell you I'm only doing this to help you?"

"You're trying to turn me against two of the only people I trust, Sam," Michael growled lowly. Sam threw her hands into the air.

"Because you shouldn't trust them!"

"Don't you think I would've done my own research on them? Don't you think it would take a lot for me to trust someone, especially in the position that I'm in?" Michael argued, voice rising, wishing he could be a bit more imposing than he was with his injured foot.

"I don't doubt that, Michael, but obviously you missed something," Sam replied, her own voice steadily calm. "I know this hurts. Sam's your best friend and you're in love with Fi--"

Michael coughed back a laugh of disbelief.

"--But you can't afford to look over the facts here!" she exclaimed, jabbing a finger down on the folders. "Otherwise you'll wake up one day with a gun to your head and no one to go to for help."

Michael continued to glare at her, folding his arms stubbornly. Samantha sighed heavily, rolling her eyes.

"Look, Michael. I can't _make_ you believe me. We both know that it's pointless for me to try and I wouldn't try anyway. You have to recognize the truth on your own," she said, sliding off the table. "And the truth is that I'm painfully sorry about this. I really am."

"Stop apologizing, Sam," Michael bit quietly, eyes focused on the spot she'd just been. Sam let out a shuddering breath before nodding to herself. Michael recognized her somber attitude and looked up.

"Sam, it's... I trust you, but... my father..."

Sam's smile was small. "I know. I understand. I'm just..."

"Trying to help," Michael finished for her. "But I can't put my trust into something that my dad could have twisted."

Samantha nodded. "I can understand that, Michael, which is why I'm trying to tell you that he hasn't twisted it. I know it's hard to believe because you've worked with Sam and Fiona for so long, but you should be able to accept the fact that sometimes people surprise you."

"I am, Sam," Michael assured her, reaching out to rest a hand on her arm. "I'm just not willing to believe it yet. There isn't enough proof."

Sam nodded. "Well, then. I'll just have to find more for you." She placed a hand on top of his, both of them silent for a while.

"You know, when I got to Chicago after we finished that business with Brennen, Charlie asked about you," Sam said quietly. Michael looked up to meet her eyes questioningly. She smiled slightly at him. "He asked who you were. I wasn't entirely sure what to say."

"What did you say?" Michael asked, voice just as quiet and reverent as hers. Sam laughed softly.

"I told him you were an old friend. Which I found a bit of an understatement."

Michael laughed as well. Sam squeezed his hand. "Maybe someday I'll be able to explain to him."

Michael wasn't exactly sure how to reply to that, so he opted for silence. Sam reached her hand out to brush Michael's cheek gently, walking to the door at the same time. Michael followed her with his gaze, finding he was completely confused now. Samantha had really never fully moved on, had she? Had Michael?

XxXxX

Michael wasn't entirely positive of how long he'd been here. He hadn't seen much of Frank lately, thank goodness, and every time Samantha returned she had more evidence against Sam and Fiona. Michael couldn't deny it was pretty damning. And pretty damn convincing. A smarter, stronger man would have accepted the facts and done something about it, but Michael wasn't willing to give up on Sam and Fiona yet. How could they have done this? Fi, especially! Ever since the moment they met... Michael tried hard not to think about it too much.

Every time Samantha gave Michael more evidence, the tension between them increased. At one point, frustrated with the proof she'd given him, Michael had slammed the documents on the floor and limped away, unable to take it any longer. Only moments later he felt Sam's tender hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently. Without a word, Michael tensed, trying to decide how to react. Her fingers slipped past his collar as she rubbed his shoulders, touching his bare skin. Michael involuntarily shuddered at her touch and found himself turning to face her. Lips touched and Michael found himself falling fast into an abyss of edgy disquiet.

A/N: One request: Don't eat me. Please. :)

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism! And that doesn't mean telling me Michael would never kiss Sam, because I will just point you to Sins of Omission. He was kissing her back, thank you very much.


	13. Chapter 12

"Well, son, we've done all we can."

Michael jerked awake as Frank let himself in the room. Michael glanced around, standing up and limping away from Frank.

"Where's Sam?"

Frank smiled knowingly but ignored the question. "We've given you more and more proof. If you don't believe us at this point, we're never going to be able to convince you."

Michael frowned, trying to find the catch. "So, what? You're just... going to let me go?"

Frank nodded, pulling Michael's keys, phone and wallet out of his pockets and tossing them to his son. Michael caught them reflexively, still a bit baffled.

"Out this room, down the hall and at the end will let you out of the building, the Charger is just outside," Frank told him. "We're just a few miles west of the inner city, it should be easy enough for you to find your way back."

Michael still didn't quite believe this. He stared at the keys and phone in his hand, slipping his wallet into his back pocket. After a moment, he looked back up to Frank.

"Just like that?"

Frank nodded solemnly. "Like I said, there's no point in keeping you here at this point. If you don't believe us now, you never will. That is, until there's no possible way you can deny it."

Samantha's word the other day rang in Michael's memory: _You'll wake up one day with a gun to your head and no one to go to for help._

As Michael continued to think things over, Frank silently left the room. Michael flipped his phone around in his hand for a while, debating whether or not to call Ma, Nate or... Sam or Fiona... Could he trust them? Ma and Nate, yes, of course, unless... Sam or Fiona had done something to them... compromised them somehow... Of course, this was all assuming anything Samantha and Frank were claiming was true. It was possible that Sam and Fiona were perfectly innocent.

...But why would Samantha tell him they were betraying him?

Michael's fingers curled around the phone and he shoved it in his pocket, limping quickly to the door, following Frank's directions to the Charger.

It felt good to step into the Charger: something familiar and unquestioningly loyal. While Michael had never had the same thing for cars Sam had, Michael could appreciate all the spots of trouble the Charger had gotten him out of. Slowly, still lost in thoughts, Michael put the keys in the ignition and turned the car on.

The drive felt longer than it should've been. When Michael looked back on it, if he were honest with himself, he would realize that he had not been driving safely at all and it was a wonder that he avoided getting pulled over. Instead of paying attention to his surroundings, he was lost in the past.

Could Sam and Fiona really be betraying him? The idea had seemed so preposterous just days ago, but now Michael wasn't so sure. All the evidence Samantha had handed him pointed blatantly toward their guilt and it was damn hard to forge that much damning proof that quickly.

Michael thought back to the first time he had met Sam. His first impression of the Navy SEAL had been of a bumbling idiot who really shouldn't be on those sorts of jobs. After seeing him in action, however, Michael's opinion had to change. While Sam loved his booze and women off the job, when he had something to get done, it got done. If they hadn't been on the same side, Michael would've made a note to watch out for Sam Axe. And maybe he should have anyway.

He'd been avoiding the thought of Fiona for days, but now, on his way home, it came and it would not leave. Ever since the moment they met... The first time they'd actually made contact, Fiona had almost blown off Michael's hand with a block of C4. For years the memory had amused him, but now it made his blood run cold. There was no doubting that she had tried to honestly kill him numerous times. Before now Michael just attributed that to her fiery Irish nature but could it have been more?

And when had they met again? Immediately after Michael was burned! Sure, he'd still had her in his emergency contacts, but why in the hell had she actually come? She'd said she wanted to be there in the end to tell him how much of a bastard he was. She'd said she was staying in Miami because of the sun and she needed to get out of New York. But was it more than that?

Had... Had Fiona ever really loved Michael? Michael's head pounded along with his increasing heartbeat at the notion. Had he left Samantha for nothing? Dammit, he could have a wife and maybe even a kid if it weren't for Fiona! Had the tumultuous relationship been a farce on her part? Had all these scars, all that pain been for nothing? Had Michael really wasted so much energy, time and love on nothing?

Michael's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel harder and harder, his vision turning red with rage. To have trusted someone so completely and have that trust shoved back in his face...

He smelled burnt rubber when he pulled to a jarring stop outside the loft. Without even taking the keys out of the ignition, Michael jumped out of the Charger, slamming the door loudly behind him and storming to the gate to unlock it. The idea of locking it back up completely escaping his thoughts, Michael stomped up the stairs and into the loft.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: This is one of those short chapters... Good thing, too, I don't know if you would be able to take anymore for this one...

Fi jumped at the sound of the door slamming open and whirled around to see Michael storming towards her. Confused at the rage radiating from him, she stood up and took a step towards him. Before she could voice her concern, however, his hand flew out and he backhanded her hard across the face. Fi's body flew against the wall from the force of his blow and she slumped, unable to move from the shock.

Before she could even think about recovering, strong and familiar fingers curled around her throat. Blinking through tears, Fi saw Michael's face inches from hers, full of an emotion she didn't recognize from him. With the strong hand wrapped tightly around her throat, he lifted her in the air, pushing her hard against the wall. Fi chocked through her tears, mind reeling.

Usually, Fiona would have no trouble freeing herself and giving her enemy hell. This time, though, Michael was her enemy. Sure, she'd fought him plenty of times, but it was always her attacking him. Never before had he attacked her in any manner more than defensive. It was a good thing, too. There was no question that Michael could easily kill her if he tried.

And now he was trying. All Fi could do was dangle in the air, grasping for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks, as Michael wordlessly strangled her.

A/N: Holy crap, I haven't even posted this yet technically and I can already feel the murderous vibes coming from readers...

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	15. Chapter 14

"Michael? What the hell--!"

Michael started at the voice, thoughtlessly tossing the slender body in his grasp to the side. Her head hit the counter hard before falling to a crumpled heap to the floor. Michael stood pointedly in front of her, blinking quickly several times before recognizing who had walked through the door.

"Ma."

Madeline looked appalled, her eyes flickering between Michael and the body behind him. "What did you _do_?"

Michael hesitated for a moment before walking purposefully to Maddy and grabbing her by the elbow to lead her back outside. Maddy wrenched her arm away from Michael, staring at him like she didn't recognize him. She glanced over to the mess of limbs by the counter again, beginning to walk towards it. Michael seized her by the arm, yanking her back.

"I'll drive you home, Ma."

"I can drive myself," Maddy said, voice lined with ice.

"It'd be better if I drove you," Michael argued without changing the tone of his voice. Maddy stared at him hard, trying to understand.

"What is going on, Michael?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound motherly and concerned for him, though she was more angry at him and concerned for the Irish woman laying unconscious on the floor.

"It's complicated," Michael answered. Before Maddy could protest against the cliché reply, Michael wheeled her out the door, making sure to close it firmly behind him, and out to the Charger. Her arguments fell flat against his unhearing ears, which she soon realized, proceeding to simply give him her hardest glare as he drove her back to her house. The fact he ignored the stare only increased her confusion and worry: usually a glare that hard would have bored holes through stone.

When they reached the house, Michael got out and opened the door for her like a regular gentleman. Once they were both inside the house, Michael closed the door carefully behind him, finally turning to face his mother. Nate came into the living room, frowning at the expressions on his family's faces.

"Hey, guys, what's up? Michael, where you b--"

"Do you know where Sam is, Ma?" Michael asked, interrupting his brother. Nate blinked, taken aback by the fact Michael had completely blown him off. Maddy glanced briefly at Nate before answering Michael.

"I don't know, Michael. What the hell is going on?"

"Nate? Any idea where Sam is?"

Nate shook his head, eyes wide as they flicked back and forth between Maddy and Michael. "Can't you just call him, bro?"

Michael ignored the question, placing a hand on Maddy's shoulder. She moved swiftly from under his grasp, backing up towards Nate, who stared at the strange exchange.

"It'd be better if you both stayed here," Michael said calmly. Maddy laughed harshly.

"It's not like you gave us much of a choice," she scoffed. "My car's still at your place."

Michael didn't reply and instead turned to start a search for Sam. The sound of the door closing hit Nate and Maddy harder than it truly was, making both of them wince. Finally, Nate turned to his mom.

"What's going on, Ma?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. We need to call Sam, though."

Nate frowned at the tone in her voice but turned to grab a phone and toss it to her. Maddy caught it easily, hitting the speed dial without hesitation.

_"Hey, Maddy, what's up?"_

"Sam, Michael's home," Madeline started. She could hear a heavy breath of relief.

_"Thank heavens. Where is he?"_

"I think he's on the hunt for you," Maddy told him warily. There was a pause.

_"The hunt?"_

"I went to the loft to check on Fi and found..." Maddy gulped, trying to force the words out. "Dammit, Sam, he was strangling her!"

Nate's eyes widened in shock as silence met her ears over the receiver.

"He wouldn't explain and drove me home, leaving my car at his place so Nate and I can't get anywhere," Madeline continued, her words coming out in a rush now. "He asked if we knew where you were. I'm afraid he's going to try to kill you, too, Sam."

_"Is Fi okay?"_

Maddy shook her head, even though she knew Sam couldn't see her. "I don't know, Michael wouldn't let me check."  
Sam's swear came out in a hiss. _"I'll go check up on her. You let me know if Michael comes by again. We'll figure this out, Maddy, I promise."_

After hanging up, Nate took the phone from her, setting it back down, eyes never leaving her. "Is Fiona all right?" he asked quietly. Maddy shook her head again.

"I don't know, Nate. I don't know."

XxXxX

Sam didn't bother closing the door to the loft behind him when he saw Fiona's crumpled body at the base of the counter. Panic building up in his throat, he practically slid to her side, rolling her over to check her pulse. The tension in his body kept rising for a few painful seconds until he finally felt a faint pulse under his fingertips. Letting out a sigh of relief, Sam put his hand to her mouth, gaging her breathing. It was shallow and uneven, but it was there. She was on the edge of life and death, but she was still alive.

He sat back to give her a good inspection. For the most part, she looked fine. Some blood from a small head wound had trickled through her hair, matting bits of it together. Her neck, however, was already an ugly mix of dark colors in the shape of Michael's hand. Sam winced at the sight. There was no doubt that she was lucky to still be breathing. The fact Maddy had come to check up on her probably saved her life by seconds.

Sam found himself growling lowly at the thought of Michael doing this to Fi. What the hell had been going through his head? Wasn't the man in love with her? Why would he try to kill her?

Sam knew one thing for sure. Michael would regret this. Sam would make damn sure of it.

A/N: Oh, the drama! I don't know about you, but I'm loving this!

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	16. Chapter 15

Michael had hit several bars and a few of Sam's old lady friends' houses before concluding he wasn't going to find Sam this way. He really didn't want to alert Sam by calling him, but if he was honest with himself, Ma had probably alerted Sam the moment Michael had left the house. With a grumble, he pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial.

_"Mike. What. The. Hell."_

"I think we should talk, Sam," Michael said evenly, ignoring the fury in Sam's voice.

_"You got that right."_

Michael gave him a location, a small bridge away from large populations of people, and hung up, jumping back into the Charger.

The drive seemed long, even with Michael's foot trying to smash the pedal through the floorboard. The adrenaline of a kill now added to the idea another was about to happen pumped through his veins, making him hyper aware of every little detail around him. When he reached the bridge, he slammed down hard on the brakes with his uninjured foot. He leaned over to the glove compartment, hoping Frank hadn't had someone go through it and get ride of the small handgun Michael had stashed in there. To his relief, the gun was still sitting there, practically inviting Michael to snatch it up and use it. He examined it quickly, making sure it hadn't been tampered with, then stepped out the Charger.

"I'd really like to know what's going through that pretty head of yours, Mike," Sam bit from a ways away as Michael walked towards him. Michael came to a halt about twenty feet away from Sam, neither of them quite willing to get any closer.

"I could ask you the same thing, Sam."

Sam's eyes squinted at Michael. "What do you think is going through my head?"

Michael laughed shortly. "The Cubans, Sam? Really?"

"Okay... I have no clue what you're talking about, Mike. Does this have to do with why you strangled Fi?" Sam asked. Michael paused, realizing Maddy must have not only warned Sam but explained to him what was going on... as much as she could, anyway.

"In a way, yeah, I guess it does," he answered finally, stubbornly.

"So, what, are you going to try to kill me, too?" Sam asked, face starting to turn red in his anger. Michael paused again, thinking it over, before pulling out the gun that he'd tucked in the back of his pants and aiming.

"I've been thinking about it."

Sam's guffaw was rather violent. "Mike! It's _me_! Sam! Your buddy! And that woman you strangled earlier? That was _Fiona_! Fiona Glenanne! What the hell has happened over the past couple days that I've totally missed?"

Michael shook his head. "Not over the past couple of days, Sam. Stop playing stupid."

Sam laughed harshly. "I'm not playing stupid, Mike," he replied steadily. "You're the one acting like an idiot."

Michael didn't reply, keeping the handgun trained on Sam's head. Finally, Sam shook his head exasperatedly, throwing an annoyed arm towards Michael.

"You know what? Screw this. Have fun on your own, Mike. Let me know when you get your head back on straight."

With that, Sam walked away, back to his car. Michael followed him over the edge of the handgun for a moment before dropping it in a huff.

"Bah," he hissed under his breath. Sam couldn't have pretended innocence that easily, could he? He _had_ been pretending for years now, very convincingly, but... but... Well, had he? Michael limped quickly back to the Charger, sitting down in the driver's seat and slamming the door closed, but not turning on the car.

His anger was starting to simmer down, overtaken by sudden doubts. Sam really had seemed confused, completely baffled by Michael's behavior. And why would he deny it at this point? Michael had already gotten rid of one obstacle, why did Sam think Michael would listen to him instead of get rid of him, too? Besides the fact that that was what actually had happened...

A string of multi lingual curses spewed out from Michael's lips as he slammed his hands against the steering wheel. He had no clue what to believe anymore. He had no idea who to trust.

A/N: Yeah, it's shorter than usual, sorry. But it's pretty intense, right? :)

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	17. Chapter 16

A/N: Hey... this might seem familiar to some people... perhaps AllOverTheWorld, for example... :) It's another one of those weird short ones.

If there's one way I don't want to die it's drowning. The whole stick-your-victim's-head-in-a-bucket-of-water torture method is among my least favorite experiences. It doesn't matter whether you're a spy or not, no one wants to die. Drowning is one of the slowest ways to go. Once the realization of what's happening hits, the terror just keeps building up. It doesn't help that your brain isn't getting any oxygen so you're not thinking clearly anyway. Panic keeps growing and growing until you're either rescued or you blackout.

It's even worse when it's your own thoughts are the things you're drowning under.

A/N: Okay, interesting to note... that was exactly 100 words. I wasn't trying to do that. :)

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	18. Chapter 17

"You're really messed up, aren't you?"

Michael jumped in his seat, looking through his open window to see he'd been way too lost in thought for comfort. "Sam!"

Samantha smiled awkwardly. "Hi."

"What the hell--" Michael started, opening the door and climbing out to greet her.

"I was lying, Michael," she interrupted. Suddenly Michael realized there were tear stains on her cheeks. "He did have Charlie. I couldn't let you know, he would've figured it out--"  
"Wait, past tense?" Michael asked slowly. Samantha nodded, looking down to her feet and biting her bottom lip.

"Once you left, he didn't need me anymore, so... so he killed Charlie."

Damn. Damn. Damn, damn, damn, dammit. Michael took a step backwards from the force of this new information.

"He's crazy, Michael," Samantha continued, words coming out in a rush. "He just wants to hurt people for no reason, which is why he wanted to turn you against your friends."

Michael froze, looking back up to stare at Samantha like a deer in the headlights. Samantha caught the look on his face, her own eyes widening.

"Oh no, Michael, you didn't..."

Michael wasn't sure if he was about scream, cry or vomit. He turned his back to Samantha, reeling. He should have trusted his first instinct. He'd known he should have. He knew better than this. But Frank had been able to wring Samantha the wrong way, helping him turn Michael and...

Three simple words hit Michael harder than a direct hit from an eighteen wheeler and he tasted bile in the back of his mouth.

_I killed Fi._

"I'm so sorry," Samantha whispered, knowing better than to reach out a comforting hand. Michael mulled the idea over for a moment before forcing it far into the darkest corner of his mind. With a deep breath, he turned his attention back to Samantha purposefully.

"We have to move," he said, the steadiness of his voice almost disconcerting. He glanced around, saw Samantha had her own car and nodded his head at it. "Get in your car."

Michael could feel Samantha hesitate, watching him carefully as he stepped into the Charger and turned it on.

"Michael..." Samantha's voice was edgy, warning. Michael looked up to see a dark blue pick-up truck coming towards them. In the driver's seat, Michael could easily pick out Frank's all-too pleased smile.

"Dammit. Get down!" Michael ordered, jumping back out of the Charger, stepping in front of Samantha and pulling out his handgun. The pick-up came to a slow stop and Frank walked out, not at all worried by the weapon trained on him.

"You're not going to shoot your own father, are you, son?" Frank asked patronizingly. Michael hesitated, taking the thought into consideration. Would he kill his own father?

Frank nodded at Samantha behind Michael.

"Good afternoon, Samantha."

Michael growled lowly. Yes. Yes, he would kill his own father. The click of the safety ran through everyone's ears but Frank only smiled.

"I don't have a bone with her, son, calm down."

There was a slight pause and then Michael turned his head minimally to talk to the woman behind him. "Sam... go to my mom's. Explain to her, Nate and Sam Axe the situation."

Samantha nodded silently, moving quickly to her car as Frank let out a loud belly laugh.

"Oh, the big reveal! How exciting. Time to raise the stakes, huh?"

Michael gave him a hard glare as Samantha's car sped away. Frank really was enjoying this, wasn't he? The man was completely insane. It would be so much easier for everyone if Michael just killed him right now--

"Why don't you come with me?" Frank asked. "There's something back at the base you might want to see."

"Oh?" Michael hissed, re-aiming the gun. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

Frank grinned. "But I am. You see, if you shoot me and I don't show up back at the base in half an hour, some people are going to... well, die. And not just some poor shmuck off the street, no. Like I said... you might want to see this."

Michael felt a wave of goosebumps run up his spine. What had Samantha said? _He just wants to hurt people for no reason._ Yeah. That seemed accurate.

Michael met Frank's grin again, bracing himself as he lowered the gun.

"Leave the gun in the Charger," Frank ordered. His eyes gleamed. "C'mon, son, this should be fun! A little time as father and son. Just like old times."

Michael pushed back the memories of those "old times" washing over him, tossing the gun through the Charger's open window and walked to the passenger seat of the pick-up. Opening the door and climbing in, Michael stared hard into space, praying Samantha would be able to explain to everyone back home. If Sam was willing to give Michael a second chance after... after he'd killed Fi... there may yet be a way out of this.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	19. Chapter 18

A/N: First, let me attribute this short little chapter to AllOverTheWorld. Second, this is a flashback Michael has as Frank is taking him back to the base.

Michael was barely aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks. Instead he focused on the painfully cold metal of the handgun he was holding to his temple. Once again, things were crashing down around his ears so fast it made his head spin. It was the calm before the storm, one of those rare and terrifying times that Michael had too much time to think. He knew why his missions kept failing, he knew all too well. He'd gotten distracted. He'd broken the rules. He'd fallen in love with a fiery Irish woman and there was nothing he could do about it now.

The pills he'd swallowed were taking too long for Michael. The handgun was sloppy and obvious but he was beyond desperation now. And so he sat there, on his bed in the cruddy motel in Afghanistan, digging the barrel deeper and deeper into his temple.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	20. Chapter 19

"I assume Samantha explained to you that I've been following your career closely," Frank said conversationally as he and Michael walked through the hallways of Frank's "base." Michael raised an eyebrow, wondering if Frank was going to explain how he'd been able to pull that off.

"It's not just you I've been following," Frank continued. "I've watched the entire family. And there are a few people in your lives I don't exactly approve of."

"Like Sam?" Michael bit, unable to voice the second person's name. Frank smiled.

"And Fiona?" he added. Michael looked away to hide the grief that hit him at the name. Frank chuckled. "Yes." He led Micheal through a doorway into a room with a large window looking into the neighboring room. Michael looked through the window and winced.

There were two people tied to chairs in the other room. One was unconscious, the other looked terrified and both looked worse for the wear. The unconscious one seemed liked he'd put up a bit of a fight and Michael couldn't help but smile. Virgil still had it in him. The other person was staring at Michael desperately as if she knew he could help even though they'd only met briefly once before. Damn. When Nate found out his wife was here...

Michael tore himself away from Ruby, Ruth, whatever's gaze to see Frank looking almost giddy.

"So. Here's the deal. You have forty-eight hours to save their lives," Frank informed Michael. "There are no rules other than the time limit. Use whatever resources you like. Madeline, Nate, Samantha, whoever. If you can manage to bring a SWAT team to back you up, go ahead. Realize, however, that the 'no rules' thing applies to me, too. I may move them, may have a SWAT team of my own. They might even be on the verge of death when those forty-eight hours are up. I only promise they'll still technically be alive in forty-eight hours. Other than that..." Frank shrugged.

Michael gaped. Frank grinned at the look of bafflement on Michael's face then jerked his head to the door. "The clock's ticking, son. You can take the truck."

XxXxX

Michael stood at the bottom of the steps up to Madeline's front door, trying to convince himself to walk up them and through the door. Samantha's car sat in the driveway so he knew Maddy and Nate would already be caught up and hopefully Sam was too, but... actually confronting everyone was a different problem to tackle all together. With a deep breath, Micheal took the necessary steps forward and cautiously opened the door.

Samantha and Maddy were sitting at the kitchen table, Samantha looking uncomfortable and Maddy's eyes larger than dinner plates. Nate seemed aggitated and was getting himself a beer from the fridge. Sam was pacing back and forth just feet from Michael, a hand covering his mouth in thought. When Michael opened the door, all activity halted, all eyes falling on Michael as he awkwardly shut the door behind him. Nate was the first to speak.

"Dad's freaking _alive_?" he burst. Michael winced.

"Yeah," he answered. "Did Samantha explain everything?"

Samantha stood up, walking over to Michael's side. "Just finished," she replied. Michael nodded.

"Good. Look, I know I should explain myself, but Samantha's explanation is just going to have to do for now," he said, meeting Sam's glare steadily. "Dad's got Virgil and Ruby--"

"Ruth," Madeline interrupted, sounding oddly mechanical.

"He's got my _wife_?" Nate bellowed, coming out from behind the counter.

"--And is giving us forty-eight hours to save them. We have to get a plan together _now_," Michael continued, ignoring the interruptions. "Sam, I need your help."

Sam was still glaring at him hard. "Fine," he said quietly. "I'm going to stop by the bathroom before we leave."

He turned away, walking past Nate and down the hall. Michael watched him warily for a moment before turning to Samantha.

"I know where they were forty-five minutes ago, but we probably shouldn't go storm the castle. We don't know what kind of security and man power he has--"

"I'm helping," Nate said suddenly, walking right up to Michael's side. Micheal frowned at him.

"Nate--"

Nate shook his head violently. "He's got Ruth, Mike. He's threatening me, too, now. Plus, you're going to need all the help you can get."

Michael pursed his lips unhappily but nodded. "All right."

XxXxX

Telling Mike he needed a bathroom break was a load of bull, but it worked. Instead of turning into the room directly to his right in the hallway, Sam kept walking until he got to Michael's old bedroom. Quietly, he opened the door and crept to the side of the bed, where Fiona lay peacefully sleeping. Hating himself for it, Sam shook her gently to wake her up. With a groan, Fi stretched, hand immediately going to rub her bruised neck.

"Look, it's a long story," Sam said quickly, "but Michael's back and actually has somewhat of a decent excuse for what he did to you."

Fi's eyebrows furrowed and she sat up, propping herself up on her elbow.

"I still don't like it, though, so I'm going to keep quiet about you. I think he thinks you're dead, which is fine by me," Sam continued, tone harsh. "We've got a little rescue mission to go on, so I'm going to leave you here and Maddy'll take care of you, all right?"

"I don't need taking care of, Sam," Fi hissed hoarsely. Sam smiled wryly. Even a near death experience couldn't take the spark out of Fi.

"Yeah, well, indulge me," he said, patting her on the arm. He turned back to leave the room, unaware of Fi pulling herself out of bed and silently following him. Before joining up with Samantha, Nate and Michael, Sam placed a hand on Madeline's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Breaking ever so slightly out of her reverie, Maddy looked up to meet Sam's eyes. He gave her a meaningful look meant to convey everything he'd just told Fi, then walked up to the others.

Fi caught a glimpse of Michael as he closed the door behind them and was surprised at the shock of fear that ripped through her at the sight of him. Silently and breathing hard, she leaned against one of the walls in the hallway, her heart feeling as cold and heavy as stone.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism.


	21. Chapter 20

A/N: This is one of those short chapters, another flashback. Like most of the flashbacks before this, it's before the burn notice, in fact, back when Fi and Michael were together and she didn't know yet that he was an American spy.

Fi woke suddenly when she heard a strange groan from the body beside her and turned over to give Michael a worried look. He was still asleep but a pained look was etched into his features and he shifted uncomfortably beside her. Disturbed by this, Fiona placed a hand gently on Michael's face and whispered his name. When his brows only furrowed deeper, Fi bit her lip before saying with a bit more force:

"Michael."

With a start, Michael's eyes flew open, a hand whipping out to strike. Fi caught his hand just barely before it smacked her, shushing him quickly.

"Sh, sh, sh, it's just me."

Michael closed his eyes with a sigh, letting his arm go limp in Fi's grasp. She frowned.

"You okay?"

He opened his eyes again to look at her and then sat up, drawing away from her. "Yeah. Just a nightmare."

Fiona sat up as well, eyes following him as he turned his back to her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rubbing at his eyes.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Without turning to her, he shook his head. "No," he replied simply. Fi slumped, disappointed but not surprised. Michael McBride never opened up to her, however obvious she made it that she wished he would.

With a deep breath, Michael stood up and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm gunna hop in the shower," he told Fi as he started to walk towards the bathroom. Fi grinned.

"Shall I join you?"

Finally Michael stopped to look at her. He didn't seem amused. "No, Fi."

Fi sighed. He was way too serious sometimes. He started to walk away again but, to Fiona's surprise, paused and glanced at her again.

"Don't leave, though," he said quietly. Fi blinked, shocked by the seriousness in his tone and nodded gently.

"I won't," she replied softly.

A/N: Ready for it? One... two... three... AWWW!!!!!! :)

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism.


	22. Chapter 21

A/N: Apologies to The Dark Knight and Alfred for totally stealing his monologue... It just fit too perfectly, I couldn't resist.

"Wait, he says he's doing this to _protect_ us?" Nate asked. Michael sighed, closing his eyes. The buzz of Carlito's was starting to get to him. It didn't help that Sam hadn't dropped his hard stare once.

"Yeah."

"But obviously that's not true," Samantha added. "He said Sam and Fiona were betraying you so obviously he's lying about a lot."

It was amazing how just the sound of Fiona's name could send a shockwave through Michael's core. He'd killed her. He'd killed her. He'd killed her.

"So why is he really doing this, then?" Nate said, looking back and forth between Michael and Samantha desperately for answers.

"A long time ago," Sam said suddenly, eyes not leaving Michael, "I was in Burma, my friends and I were doing a job for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So we went looking for the stones. But in six months, we never found anyone who traded with him. One day I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away."

Nate seemed completely confused by this. "Why throw them away?"

Sam shrugged, eyes finally leaving Michael as he turned to meet Nate's gaze. "Because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with." He paused, reaching out and taking a long swig of his beer. "Some men just want to watch the world burn."

There was only silence between the four for a long moment. Finally Samantha spoke.

"Michael, do we have a plan?"

Michael seemed to break out of a daze, staring at Samantha briefly before speaking. "Sam, can you reach out to your buddies, see if you can find any information on Dad? He's got to have connections, resources. He would've left some trail behind him and we need to find it. We need to know exactly what we're up against."

Sam nodded, setting his beer down and Michael thought he caught a glimpse of the friend he knew so well. "I'm on it."

Michael nodded as well, turning to Samantha. "We're going to stock up on weapons. I've got a few places around the city, I'll need someone to back me up."

"Of course."

Nate sat up. "What about me? What do you need me to do, bro?"

Michael looked back to his brother, pursing his lips. He knew Nate wasn't going to like this, but it really was necessary. "I need you to go back to Ma's place," he said, suddenly speeding up when Nate opened his mouth to argue. "She's got to be reeling right now, Nate, Dad's back, we all thought he was dead. I don't want her alone right now."

Nate's mouth shut angrily, though it was obvious he couldn't argue with Michael. Michael sighed heavily, nodding curtly and standing up. "Let's move. We don't have time to waste."

XxXxX

Michael let the bag of guns drop onto his kitchen counter with a loud clatter. Samantha looked from the guns to him and he met her gaze grimly.

"That's the last of what we got."

Samantha's eyebrows raised slightly and a small smile shone on her lips. "You need to relax, Michael."

He snorted, looking back down to the bag. "My dad's alive. He's threatening two people's lives and I've got less than forty-eight hours to save them. He's still abusive, hell, he shot my foot, which is still trying to heal, and actually managed to succeed in turning me against two of the only people I trust by using you, Sam. And you want me to relax?"

Samantha sighed heavily, walking around the counter and slipping beside him. "There's nothing you can do right now but relax. If you stress yourself out too much, it could be dangerous."

"Yeah, I know that," Michael bit dismissively, his eyes fixed hard on the bag in front of him. Suddenly he felt a hand on his cheek and he turned, looking up to see Samantha staring into his eyes with concern. Something tightened inside of him and he swallowed hard. A stray thought crossed his mind: they were standing right were... were Fi had died...

The idea was crushed from his mind, however, when Samantha pressed her lips hard against his. She pulled her body close to Michael's, one hand at the back of his head to bring him closer. Michael kissed her back fervently, one arm around her waist, the other going to unbutton her blouse. All coherent thought left his mind as he led Samantha roughly to his mattress.

XxXxX

To be honest, Samantha was a bit surprised. She wasn't upset, no, she really had never gotten over Michael, but, well... He'd gotten over her, hadn't he? After all, he had been the one to break off the engagement! And he did have this Fiona chick... who had just _died_! And now here he was, lying next to her on his mattress, breathing heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. Samantha thrust the urge to turn her head to watch him back, continuing to stare at the ceiling as well.

It hurt to think that Michael had only just... done that because he was trying to force back the grief of losing Fiona. But Samantha couldn't actually blame him. He had killed her himself, after all. That had to be pure torture. Samantha was in need of some comfort herself, she'd just lost her son!

...Maybe... Maybe Michael could give her another...

Samantha closed her eyes angrily. This wasn't going to go anywhere. They had both just needed a moment to forget the world and reality, this didn't mean anything. It didn't. It didn't.

But, try as she might, Samantha couldn't squash the tiny flickering hope that maybe it did.

A/N: ...I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism... Don't eat me...

Also, I've officially caught up to myself. Therefore, updates will not be every day anymore. I will dearly try to make them every day but I'm being realistic. It's not going to happen. Sorry. :)


	23. Chapter 22

"Anything?" Nate asked, turning around from his seat at the kitchen table as soon as Sam opened the door. Sam glanced at him briefly before shutting the door.

"I've got a few calls out, but there's not much more that I can do myself," he replied. "My buddies are looking in to it. Once they've got something, they'll call."

"Sam, I have a question," Maddy said suddenly, staring at the smoking tip of her cigarette. "Why didn't you tell Michael Fi's okay?"

"Because he's an overprotective little twit," Fi called. Sam looked up to see her sticking her head out from behind the fridge. "You want a beer, Sam?"

"Course," Sam said, moving to sit by Maddy and Nate. Maddy was now looking hard at Sam and he returned the stare calmly. "Mike almost killed Fi," he said slowly. "I think he believes he actually did kill her, in fact. And that's fine by me. He needs some time to think things over."

"Uh, _I_ have a question," Fi interjected, handing Sam his beer and sitting down at the table as well. "What is _Samantha_ doing here?"

Sam's mouth twisted. "Apparently Mike's dad used her to turn Mike. He had her son."

"Great," Fi growled quietly, sipping at her own beer.

"Didn't Dad kill the kid?" Nate asked. Fi choked.

"What?"

Sam winced, chancing a look towards Maddy. She was staring into space, completely lost in thought.

"Yeah."

"I'm still confused about that whole thing," Nate said. "Samantha's Mike's ex-fiance?"

Fi looked back to her beer, her original attitude towards Samantha returning. Sam sighed.

"Yeah, and before you ask, no, Charlie wasn't his."

Nate closed his mouth, sitting back in his chair. "Can't believe he almost got married without saying anything."

"Yeah, well, that's Mike for you," Sam said, leaning back and taking a swig of his beer. "And, to be fair, you actually went and got married without telling anyone."

It looked like Nate was going to defend himself for a second before he remembered where his wife was and sank down, falling into the same somber stare as Maddy. Silence filled the room for a moment, making Sam a bit uneasy.

"How you holding up, Fi?"

Fi's head snapped up and she let her hand slip down from her neck. "I'm _fine_, Sam," she bit, standing and storming to the bedroom. Sam winced, watching her go.

This was turning into one hell of a week.

XxXxX

"Hey, Mike, Samantha," Sam called, nodding at each of them in turn as he let himself in to the loft. Samantha was sitting on the edge of Michael's mattress, seemingly lost in thought. Sam's mouth twisted disapprovingly, hoping beyond all hope that she hadn't slept where she currently was sitting. Michael was behind the counter, silently eating a thing of yogurt.

"Find anything, Sam?" he asked, setting his spoon down. Sam nodded, turning back to the still open door and gestured. Michael frowned. Had Sam actually brought his buddy over?

"Michael Westen. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Michael couldn't help himself. He smiled. "Jason Bly. How you been?"

Bly's lips twitched into his familiar smile. "I've been good. Sounds like you haven't had that sort of luck, though."

Michael's smile slipped. "Do you have anything?"

Bly nodded, pulling out a folder. He walked up to the counter, setting it down in front of Michael. "You've got quite the father, Michael."

"So much so that you decided to come down here yourself?" Michael asked, warily opening the folder. Bly cocked his head to the side.

"Yes, actually. To be honest, I'd just walk away," Bly started. Michael's head snapped up to protest but Bly raised a hand. "But I understand that you can't. And won't. After all, this is Michael Westen we're talking about."

Michael let his eyes drop back down to the folder. "What've you got for me?"

Bly sat down on a stool before speaking. "It seems Frank Westen's had some pretty powerful connections since before he married your mother."

"Powerful connections meaning?" Sam asked, walking around to the fridge to grab a beer.

"Every thing you can possibly imagine," Bly replied. "Dirty cops, dirty feds, even CIA agents. And, as far as I can tell, he's even got connections with some international bad guys: politicians, crime lords, take your pick."

"Damn," Michael breathed, eyes sweeping the documents in front of him. "How the hell did he keep this from us?"

"It seems he was on the lay-low, retired, if you like, up until about the time you left home," Bly answered. "He started to poke his head out around then, eventually faking his own death and fully stepping back into the world of crime."

"So what's he doing back?" Samantha asked. She'd walked up to Michael's side and was switching between reading over his shoulder and listening to Bly intently. Bly pointed a finger at her.

"See, now, that's the interesting part. It seems he was a bit obsessed about the family he'd left behind," he explained. "His connections thought he'd gone a bit soft, actually. Started to break those ties. He's still got quite a few, but he eventually went complete rogue. The rest... well." Bly nodded to Samantha. "You know what happened."

"Have you got anything we can use against him?" Michael asked, flipping through the papers. Bly reached out and directed him to one particular document.

"It seems Frank Westen, under various aliases, has bought five pieces of property recently in the Miami area," he said, pointing at the document. "That might be a good starting point."

A/N: YAY BLY!!!!! You gotta love that man.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	24. Chapter 23

A/N: I say I won't update every day and what do I do? Update every day. (rolls eyes) This is one of those short chapters. (Also, I'm just going to point out that for the past few chapters, Crazy Computer's Vendetta is the only one reviewing.)

When Samantha showed up on Michael's doorstep, it killed me. The only other time my heart had hurt worse was when I'd gotten the news that Claire had died. But with Claire I'd been able to find an outlet, joining the IRA and taking my revenge out on the British. With Michael and Samantha, I was flailing. I was torn. I was always going to help Michael with his work, especially since there was a kid involved in that one, but I really didn't like the idea of helping Samantha out. And who could I take my revenge out on? Not Michael, not this time. Not Samantha, sadly, no, I didn't want to risk hurting Michael. Brennen, maybe? But of course Michael wouldn't allow that.

Now she was back. Sure, I felt bad that Michael's father had killed her kid, but somehow I got the feeling that if it hadn't been for Samantha, Michael would've never tried to... to... to kill me.

That had stolen seat number one for event that tore my heart apart the most painfully. Michael had tried to kill me. He'd almost succeeded in killing me. I could still feel his terribly strong fingers wrapped around my throat, making my breathing come in short, uneven intervals even though I was perfectly fine save the huge bruise. The _look_ that had been in his eyes... It was like something I'd never seen before. Pure hatred. Horror. Like some montrous animal had clawed it's way through Michael's soul, taking over, starving for blood.

I wanted him to know I was alive. I did. I wanted to hold him and kiss him and assure him and myself that everything was fine. I wanted to just... touch him, to prove to myself that he was sane again, that he was still the Michael I knew and loved.

But... at the same time... I was shaken. What if that monster was still inside him, just hibernating, waiting for the right moment to strike again? I'd never even considered Michael being capable of such pure rage, unrestrained and terrible, and now that I'd been a target of it myself...

I was scared.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	25. Chapter 24

A/N: Aw, you absolutely lucky dogs!! This was NOT going to happen today! And would you look at that... :)

Nate stood quickly when Michael, Sam and Samantha walked through Maddy's front door. His eyes flicked over each of them before he spoke. "We got something?"

"Dad bought five pieces of property in the area, we're going to check them out," Michael told him, nodding. He turned his attention to Maddy who was puffing away on a cigarette, not acknowledging the visitors in her house. "Ma, Agent Jason Bly is helping us out with this. He's staying at the Epic if you need him for some reason. You can trust him."

Maddy nodded barely to let Michael know she had heard and understood him, but stayed silent and distant. Michael sighed sadly, turning back to Nate.

"We need to get moving."

Nate glanced at Maddy, biting his lip. "I think... I think I'll stay with Ma. That okay?"

Michael's eyes widened in relief, feeling a slight weight lift from his shoulders. "That'd be great, Nate, thank you."

Nate nodded, eyes fixing on Maddy. "Yeah, no problem, bro. Just... just find Ruth, okay? Make sure she's all right."

Michael placed a strong hand on Nate's shoulder. "I'll try."

XxXxX

"So... what's going on?" Fi asked, coming out to the kitchen table. Nate glanced up jerkily.

"Apparently Dad bought some properties in the area," he replied after recognizing Fi. "They're going to go check them out for any leads."

Fi frowned, sitting down in the chair next to him. "How'd they get this information?"

Nate shrugged. "I'd guess from the Agent Bly guy Michael was talking about."

Fi's eyebrows shot up. "Bly?" she repeated. Nate nodded.

"Yeah, apparently he's staying at the Epic, helping out with... Where are you going?"

Fi was on her feet, heading for the door. "I'm going to help them, Nate."

Now Maddy was looking up. "You just almost died, Fi," she pointed out. Fi pursed her lips.

"I'm fine. And I'd like to see you two try and stop me."

XxXxX

The first property the trio had checked held nothing of interest. In fact, it was an acreage with practically nothing on it: no trees, no shrubbery, even the grass was sickly. Frank had probably bought it for cheap. When the trio stepped out of the Charger at the second property, however, they found a large concrete building there. All three of them pulled out their guns, ready. Suddenly a bellow rang out and Michael whirled to see Sam falling to the ground. Samantha was immediately searching the area, a shooting match beginning between her and Frank's men.

Michael crouched down to Sam, examining the wound. Luckily, the bullet had just grazed Sam's side but blood was still steadily seeping from him, staining his shirt. Sam gritted his teeth as Michael pulled the fabric away from the wound.

"I'll be fine, Mike," he hissed. Michael looked up to meet his eyes, which still held bitterness. Michael paused before nodding and standing up to help Samantha.

Fortunately, Frank didn't have many men guarding the place. It wasn't too long before Samantha and Michael had won out. Michael glanced back to Sam.

"We'll check out the building and be right back," he told him. Sam didn't respond as Samantha and Michael walked away. He'd live, of course, but it stinkin' _hurt_. He wasn't even too worried about Samantha and Michael going into a deserted building alone... together. They were adults. Well. Technically.

Sam jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Forgetting his wound temporarily, he looked up to see Fi crouching down by him.

"What happened?" she asked, inspecting the wound. Sam winced as her fingers brushed it.

"Mike's dad had men waiting. What the hell are you doing here, Fi?"

"I wasn't about to let you guys do this on your own," Fi answered without looking up. "Funny. I didn't see anyone." Finally she looked up, glancing around the area. "So did Michael and Samantha... wait, where are they?"

"They went to check out the building," Sam replied, frowning. "Have you already checked it out? How did Frank's guys not see you?"

"I went in a different way," Fi said hurriedly, her eyes wide. "Michael and Samantha are inside the building?"

"Yes..." Sam said slowly, pulling himself up slightly. "Why?"

"I set the place to blow!" Fi exclaimed. "Figured it would mean less for Michael's dad to work with! Dammit, Sam, I put it on a timer!"

"Fi!"

"I have to warn them, Sam!" Fi continued, not paying attention to him and standing up quickly. Sam grabbed her by the elbow, yanking her back.

"No, you don't! Michael still thinks you're dead and I intend to keep it that way!"

"And kill him in the process?" Fi yelled back. "You can't very well warn him yourself!" She jerked her arm out of Sam's grasp, bolting away.

"Fi!" Sam shouted. "Fi!!"

But she wouldn't listen.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	26. Chapter 25

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JEFFREY DONOVAN! This is one of the short chapters. Also, this is a bit belated, but I've come to the realization that this is officially the most reviewed BN fic on this site. I know I complain and get on ya'll's cases a lot, but this is still quite an achievement and I love you all greatly for it. You rock my world!

Adrenaline was coursing through my veins like never before. I sprinted from Sam's side towards the building, glancing down to my watch to see how much time I had left. My heart sank. I didn't have enough. Realizing there was nothing I could do, I skidded to a stop, eyes searching for something, anything to help me out. I needed to warn Michael, I needed to stop the bomb, dammit, why I had I put it on a timer?

Maybe I could go around the building, through the way I'd gone in before, and disarm the bomb in time... It would be close, too close, but it just might work...

I bolted around some crates and came to another halt when I saw Michael and Samantha sprinting out of the building. They must've come across the C4. Pure luck. I was suddenly grateful that I hadn't had enough time to not make it completely obvious.

Michael was ahead of Samantha and realized that after exiting the building. I watched him pause, look back to Samantha, take a step back to her, bellowing at her to run faster. Samantha leaned harder into her sprint. Michael reached out to her, clasping her hand when she approached. The two of them continued to sprint, just as the building burst into flame and flying debris. They fell from the shock of the explosion, Michael using his body to protect Samantha.

Instinctively, I winced from the explosion, but it didn't really sink in. My attention was focused solely on the two people pulling themselves up. Michael was helping Samantha to her feet. They both glanced at the building in flames before walking away.

The image of Michael's fingers, the same fingers that had created this bruise on my neck, curling around Samantha's hand played over and over again in my mind. I turned around, leaning against the crates I was hidden behind, sliding down to the ground, in complete anguish, fully unaware of the burning building just feet from me.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	27. Chapter 26

A/N: Right, I don't know how long this is going to last but I just started a new desk job and have the opportunity to write for now. Things might pick up eventually, but I don't know when. So, for now, you should still be getting daily updates.

After brushing themselves off from the debris, Michael and Samantha walked back over to Sam. Sam had pulled himself up to a sitting position and was staring incredulously at the flaming building.

"We were lucky," Michael breathed, answering Sam's unspoken question. "Just happened to see some C4 and a detonator."

Sam seemed strangely relieved in Michael's opinion. Michael thought back to the sight of the detonator, frowning. "You know, come to think of it… It looked rather like…" Michael swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. "Like Fi's work."

Samantha jolted to look at Michael, but Sam only frowned. "Hm," he said simply. "I think you're losing it."

Michael frowned slightly. It was possible his mind was messing with him, making him see things that didn't exist. But… No. No, he was just hoping too much. Fi was… was dead. He had killed her. That was all there was to it.

"We'll take you back to Ma's," Michael said, moving to help Sam stand. "Get you patched up."

XxXxX

Nate volunteered to patch Sam up, letting Michael and Samantha go on ahead and continue checking out Frank's properties. The third one was rather like the last one, save, fortunately, the goons and C4. Guns drawn, the pair walked into the concrete building, peering through the darkness. About thirty feet into the building, there was a loud crashing sound and they both whirled around to see a sliding wall had cut them off from the entrance. Swearing angrily, Michael pulled out his phone, using it as a flashlight to see if there was any other way out. To his dismay, but not surprise, there were only four solid concrete walls surrounding them. He turned exasperately to Samantha, who had her own phone out, frowning at it.

"No service," she informed him. Michael let out a frustrated bellow, kicking at the floor. Great. They were stuck. With no way to contact anyone for help. Samantha watched him for a moment before shrugging.

"Well. We might as well make ourselves comfortable."

XxXxX

It had only been an hour, but it felt like days had passed. Michael let his head drop back, hitting the wall lightly. Usually he wouldn't let impatience get to him like this, but he was on a clock. Who know what Frank was doing to Virgil and Ruby/Ruth right now? About a day had passed now since Frank had given him the forty-eight hour deadline. That meant twenty-four hours left. And they were barely any closer, if not farther, from a rescue than when they had started.

And, to be honest, now that he wasn't on the go and working, Michael was having trouble fighting off the thoughts of Fi. Especially since he couldn't erase the idea that the detonator had looked like Fi's work. What if she somehow was alive? Why would she have set that building to explode? She wasn't actually working for Frank, was she? No, Samantha had said Frank was just trying to turn Michael against his friends for the sport. But what if Samantha didn't know everything? Why else would Fi have set the building to explode with Michael in it? Revenge? It was possible, but Michael would've thought that she'd want to actually see his face if she was going to take out revenge on him.

"She's dead, Michael," Samantha said quietly from across the dark room. Michael didn't move. How had she known he was thinking about Fi?

"You're not the only one grieving, you know that, right?" Samantha paused, as if waiting for an answer. After a moment she realized it wasn't going to come and continued speaking. "I lost Charlie. My _son_, Michael. I know it's hard, but you've gotta keep moving."

"One problem with that," Michael said, voice low. "We're stuck in here."

"You know that's not what I mean," Samantha said irritably. "You've lost people in the field before, you know how to handle this. Why aren't you?"

"Maybe it's because I've never killed them _myself_ before!" Michael barked, sitting up, glaring in her direction. There was silence for a long, painful moment before Michael could hear Samantha shuffling over closer to him. Her face soon appeared in the little light there was, showing concern and worry.

"Look. I can't pretend to know exactly how you feel," she said gently. "You and Fiona were close. And it's got to hurt like hell to have been the one who ended her life. But I can relate in some ways." She paused again, moving to sit next to him. "You try not to think of it, pretend none of it ever happened. When there's a quiet moment, though, the memories come, bombarding you without mercy. You keep playing moments of her life, happy moments, sad moments, whatever, but it always comes back to that terrible moment." She stopped. Michael was staring at her, recognizing she wasn't just talking about him and Fi. She was talking about herself and Charlie. "Is that about right?"

Michael could only stare for a few seconds. He was being a bit selfish. Not only had Samantha lost Charlie, but Nate was on the verge of losing Ruby/Ruth. Maddy was on the verge of losing Virgil and had just realized that her husband was actually still alive. Sam, though he would never admit it out loud, had lost Fi and was obviously rather angry that his best friend had done the deed.

Thoughts reeling, Michael turned away from Samantha standing up. He could hear Samantha following suit, but didn't expect the touch of her lips pressing hard onto his. She pressed against him passionately and Michael allowed her, but didn't respond this time. He simply found that he couldn't react. After a long moment of getting no response, Samantha lowered her face into Michael's shoulder. He could read the despondency coming from her and felt guilty that he couldn't give her the comfort she sought right now. He would, he promised silently that he would, but he just… couldn't. Not now.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	28. Chapter 27

By far the happiest day of Samantha's life had been the day Charlie had been born. It had surprised her, actually, how happy she had been. To this day, she still didn't quite know why she hadn't had an abortion or at least set him up for adoption. The day she had realized she was pregnant was among one of the worst days of her life, right up there with the day Michael had broken off the engagement. She had never planned on having a child and, to be honest, she couldn't even be sure who Charlie's father was.

However happy she had been on the day he'd been born, the fact she had someone to care for never fully sank in. Perhaps that was why she'd kept her life as a thief until after the incident with Brennen. Even then, if a good opportunity cropped up, she had difficulty turning it down. Her new job as a temp just wasn't as interesting. In the slightest.

Sometimes Samantha worried Charlie didn't know that she actually did love him. How could she not? He was her own flesh and blood, she just... forgot sometimes that she was looking out for more than just herself. She'd gotten frighteningly close to forgetting his birthday a couple of times, in fact. Maybe if he had had a father figure she would've been able to give Charlie the attention he deserved.

But now none of that mattered. When Samantha had realized that Frank was going to kill her son, she had fought, screaming and clawing like any decent mother would. After getting caught up in the action of meeting up with Michael and having to explain the situation to his family and Sam Axe, Samantha had simply found herself back in her element. It was just like normal. Besides, it was easier not to think about it.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	29. Chapter 28

This was the last property Bly had given Fi. She didn't really have much hope for it, to be honest. After every other property being nothing special, she didn't see this one being any different. There was a large concrete building on this property, not unlike a couple of the others, including the one she'd blown up. With a large sigh, Fi walked in to find she couldn't go very far before a large wall blocked her way. She frowned. The building was larger than the area she could explore…

Fi walked up to the wall for a closer look. There had to be some way to see the rest of the building. She ran her fingers across it, trying to feel for some crack, some clue of a door. When she got to the edge of the wall, where it met up with the next, she found a small crack that ran all the way from the floor to the ceiling. Fi quickly went to the other side and found the same thing. Stepping back, she looked up. Was the whole wall the door?

A muffled yell came from the other side of the wall and Fi's eyes widened. That had sounded like Michael's voice. She glanced around again and saw something that had escaped her notice before. There was a small panel on one side of the room. Upon closer examination, Fi realized that it was a means of opening the wall… door… thing. Stepping outside, she took a closer look at her surroundings. Was that…?

Fi jogged to some trees to find the Charger hiding behind them. That had been Michael she had heard. Samantha was probably in there, too. Fi's skin crawled at the thought of the two of them trapped together in there. She ran back in, straight to the panel, ready to open the door, but froze. Did she really want to see the two of them together? It seemed as if they were getting close again, did Fi really want to see that?

Slowly, Fi stepped away from the panel, pulling out her phone.

_"Hey, Fi. Found anything?"_

"Nate, I need you to do a favor for me."

XxXxX

Samantha's face still buried in his chest, Michael frowned. Gently coaxing her off him, Michael took a step to lean against the wall and put his ear against it. He could feel Samantha's confusion fill the air.

"What?" she finally asked. "Is someone out there?"

Michael nodded quickly, silently, straining to listen. That voice… It was female and it sounded way too familiar. His breath hitched in his throat. Either his head really was just enjoying torturing him or… or…

"It's not your dad, is it?" Samantha asked. Michael looked up to glare at her.

"Shh," he demanded. Samantha sighed, rolling her eyes and coming up next to him to put her ear to the wall as well. After a moment, she pulled back, pursing her lips at him.

"You think that sounds like Fiona, don't you." It wasn't a question. Seeing as she wasn't actually asking, Michael decided not to reply, keeping his ear pressed hard against the wall. After what seemed like ages, he pulled back, frowning at the wall thoughtfully.

"She's gone."

XxXxX

Michael had settled back into his sitting position against a wall. Samantha was somewhere else in the room, but Michael couldn't see her through the darkness. At times it sounded like she was pacing back and forth, which tended to grate on Michael's nerves, but he kept his mouth shut. After what felt like another age and a half, the false wall creaked loudly and slowly, slowly started to rise. Michael scrambled to his feet, amazed but cautious. What if it was Frank, waiting to rub his victory in Michael's face?

Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of shooting. Michael ducked instinctively and glanced up towards the sound to see several rifles had been mounted near the ceiling. Frank must've triggered them to go off when the door was opened to make any fights easier. Michael rolled, finding a safe spot near the still opening wall. His eyes searched the room, flitting about until he heard Samantha's cry of pain and saw her fall hard to the ground. Muttering under his breath, Michael dove towards her, grabbing her around the shoulders, helping her to her feet. As fast as they could manage, they bolted for the ever-increasing opening, sliding underneath.

"Whoa! Hey, Mike!"

Michael looked up to see it wasn't Frank who had released them from the trap, but Nate. Michael stood up to meet Nate's level.

"Nate? What're you doing here?"

Nate shrugged. "With Sam at Ma's, I figured he could watch after her and decided to try to help out with checking out the property. How long have you two been in there?"

"A few hours," Michael replied. Suddenly he remembered Samantha and knelt back down to her side. She was gritting her teeth, clutching her shoulder as blood seeped through her fingertips. She'd been hit in the shoulder blade, the bullet lodging in the bone. Michael peeled back the fabric of her shirt to get a closer look.

"We're going to need to get you back to Ma's," Michael told her, helping her to her feet. As the three of them walked back to the cars, Michael turned to Nate.

"How many of the properties have you been to?"

"That was the last one," Nate told him. "And there was nothing really exciting at any of the others. We're back at square one, bro."

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	30. Chapter 29

Michael was surprised, though not too surprised, to see Bly was waiting for them at Maddy's. Bly helped Michael gather supplies to help Samantha out and then explained to him what he had while Michael set to work pulling out the bullet in Samantha's shoulder.

"I've got guys keeping an eye out at Frank's main base, where he kept you," Bly started. "The place is still bustling, but it's hard to tell if your friends are still there unless we see them. There is one thing, though."

Michael glanced up at him, finally placing the bullet on a paper towel on the side table. Samantha had sweat on her forehead and her face had turned a brilliant shade of red, but she seemed more relieved to have the bullet out of her than anything.

"We're pretty sure, though not completely positive," Bly continued, "that Frank just left the base and is headed toward one of those five properties he bought."

"You're pretty sure?" Michael repeated. Bly nodded, shrugging.

"He managed to keep his face mostly hidden. My guys didn't get a full-on look at him."

Michael sighed, patting Samantha's shoulder gently to let her know he was done. She sat up, wiping her brow and blinking a couple of times to keep herself alert.

"Do you know which one of the properties he was heading toward?" Michael asked. Bly's mouth twisted.

"Not exactly. It's actually only an educated guess to say that he's headed toward one of them. I can tell you this, though," he said quickly before Michael snapped at him. "He was headed southwest. There are only two of the properties southwest from the base. You could start there."

Michael was silent for a moment. Finally, Sam piped up. "I thought we were trying to rescue Virgil and Nate's wife, not go after your dad."

Michael nodded, eyes lost in thought. "Which is why I want you, if you're up to it, and Samantha to go to the base. It sounds like Virgil and Ruby—"

"Ruth, Michael," Nate interrupted.

"—are still there," Michael finished, ignoring Nate. Samantha frowned, leaning forward.

"What about you? What are you going to do?"

He looked up, meeting her gaze steadily. "I'm going after Dad."

"And do what, exactly?"

Michael started, surprised to see Maddy standing over by the table, watching all of them as she puffed away angrily on her cigarette. Michael winced. He wasn't exactly sure how Maddy felt about Frank being back from the dead. Was she scared? Was she angry? Relieved, even? He bit his lip before replying.

"I need to end this," he started, gaining the beginnings of protests from both Nate and Maddy. "That doesn't necessarily mean killing him. I don't want to kill him, he's crazy but he's still my dad. But even if we do get Virgil and Ruby—"

"Dammit, her name is _Ruth_!"

"—back, he's just going to keep trying to hurt people. I'm not going to let that happen."

"So what are you going to do?" Maddy pushed. Michael sighed before standing up and walking towards her.

"I don't know yet, Ma," he said gently, placing his hands on her arms. "But I can't let him walk away."

"He's going to try to kill you."

Michael turned around to frown at Samantha. "You don't know that."

Samantha stood up now, walking up to him, concern etched in her every feature. "Yes, I do. Look what he did to your foot!"

Michael shook his head. "He's never actually tried to kill me, Sam."

Samantha didn't look convinced. "What about what just happened with me?"

"He wasn't trying to kill me—" Michael started, but was cut off.

"But that could've easily killed both of us," Samantha pointed out. "Obviously he doesn't care if you live. And if you're not going to kill him, then—"

"I'll be fine," Michael said stubbornly. "Don't worry about me."

"I always worry about you," Samantha said through a whisper. Michael didn't reply, but simply put his arms on her shoulders, squeezing gently. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam's face fall into a scowl, Nate raise an eyebrow and Maddy shift uncomfortably next to him. But he didn't care. Fi was dead. Michael wasn't going to mope around for her when he had Samantha here.

XxXxX

Sam watched the exchange between Michael and Samantha and couldn't help but be very aware of the fact that only a few feet behind him was Fi, hiding away. She had told Sam she knew there was something going on between Michael and Samantha, but Sam wasn't quite sure if she knew how close they really were getting. This? This would just break her already tattered heart. It was kind of weird, Sam had to admit, how protective he was of her right now. He didn't quite know what set it on. Maybe it was the fact that it was _Michael_, his _best friend_ for Pete's sake, who had hurt her. Maybe it was the fact that, despite their differences, Sam and Fi really were becoming good friends. Sam supposed he felt a bit like an older brother towards her. That's how he was acting, anyway. Besides, he was still pissed off that Michael would let someone, especially his own dad who he knew was not a good guy, warp him around like that. Idiot.

Michael had placed his hands on Samantha's shoulders and Sam bit back a growl by taking a swig of his beer. After this job was done, he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to hold himself back any longer if the two of them kept acting like this. He'd end up just beating the hell out of Mike. The damn idiot.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	31. Chapter 30

A/N: One of the short ones. I believe this is the last one of these until the sequel. Yes, there's a sequel. :)

I left home in the middle of the night when Dad was out on a bend. I actually had barely seen him the past few days. I'd caught a glimpse of him the morning before I left. It was my last day of school and I'd been on my way out the door. All my bags were packed, waiting for me in my room. I'd go to school, then hit a couple of the regular Friday parties before coming home late, after Ma had gone to bed so I could slip out unnoticed. The only person I'd have to worry about was Nate, who didn't even know I was leaving yet. He'd find out later, Ma could tell him. Dad would be out, getting drunk and ready to beat Ma for letting me leave. I felt a bit guilty about that, but he'd beat her no matter what.

The last I saw my dad before he came back from the dead was no different than any other time before that. I was rushing out the door and my parents' bedroom door happened to be open. Without thinking about it, I glanced inside to see Ma sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming silently down her cheeks as Dad stood in front of her, bellowing loud enough to shake the whole house. He'd probably just gotten in. I could smell the alcohol from where I was in the hallway and could see the sweat dripping from his face.

I shook my head in disgust. I wouldn't regret leaving. And I especially wouldn't regret never seeing my father ever again.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	32. Chapter 31

A/N: Uhm. Apologies for the Star Wars references... I didn't plan that. It just sort of... happened. And, yes, I do have a lightsaber. And, yes, I have dueled with my little brother. I really am a geek, what can I say? Also, I'm simply posting two in one day because the one earlier was short and I'm getting impatient to start on the sequel. :D

"You're too late, son."

Michael stayed silent, slowly walking towards the sound of Frank's voice, SIG ready. Bly's guess had been right: the second property Michael had checked was apparently where Frank had headed.

"I'm actually a bit disappointed," Frank said, walking out so Michael could see him. "I really thought forty-eight hours would be enough. Obviously I didn't factor in the distractions of your ex-fiance." Frank smirked, seeming pleased with himself, but Michael refused to give him the pleasure of a reaction.

"Though, really. You followed _me_?" Frank asked. "You actually thought I'd keep them with me?" He spread his arms out, looking around mockingly. "I don't see anyone but the two of us. Father and son."

"Now are you going to tell me to join you and together we can rule the galaxy?" Michael asked, still closing the space between them. Frank threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh, now, a lightsaber duel really would shake things up, wouldn't they?" he asked, chuckling. "I think that'd be kind of fun. I never did get to participate in those duels with you and your brother."

"That's because we only had one before you broke both of our lightsabers in a drunken rage," Michael pointed out. "Though I'm sure you would've thoroughly enjoyed beating the hell out of us with them."

Frank shrugged. "I guess we'll never know, will we?" He paused and Michael finally came to a halt, merely feet away from Frank, SIG still aimed between his eyes.

"So now we're presented with an interesting problem. That Virgil bloke and your brother's wife are out of the picture by now, there's no hope of you catching up to them this late in the game, but you and I are still left here. You with a gun to my head. Though I highly doubt you'll actually use it, you didn't have the guts last time." He paused, as if waiting for a reaction from Michael.

"So let's just talk about who we'll have in the next round," he continued once he realized Michael was going to keep his mouth shut. "I understand you had a certain Agent Jason Bly help you out this time. That might be interesting: a CSS agent. There's also a money launderer named Barry. A gun runner named Seymour. A young woman you used to work with named Lucy. A police officer named Paxson. That'd be interesting since you two didn't exactly get along," Frank mused. "Or there's Sam Axe. Didn't get him last time. Samantha, since you're getting closer to her, you're welcome for that by the way."

This time Michael couldn't help the low growl. He shook his head, trying to hide the growl under a toothy smile but Frank still noticed. He grinned.

"That one hit close to home, didn't it? I'll probably save her for last, though. Don't want to play my good cards too soon, right?" He chuckled. "Let you two get closer over time. Maybe even actually get married this time! A kid or two would be fun to play with. Gotta love the kids."

Michael wasn't quite sure what made him do it. Maybe it was the threat to Samantha's life. Maybe it was the threat to any future children Michael might have. Maybe it was simply the fact that Michael realized that he only had one option anymore because a jail cell wouldn't hold this particular breed of crazy. All he knew for sure was the fact that his trigger finger had pressed down and Frank now had a dark blotch of red growing on his shirt.

Frank looked rather shocked for a couple seconds, staring at Michael briefly before staring down at the ever growing stain on his shirt. He looked back up to Michael, a smile twitching onto his lips.

"Would you look at that," he said mildly before folding over, crumbling without grace to the floor.

XxXxX

When Sam and Samantha arrived at the base, it was bustling with activity.

"Was it usually this busy?" Sam asked, peering through a pair of binoculars as Frank's men scurried around. Samantha shook her head.

"It was actually pretty quiet for the most part. Something big is happening."

Sam was quiet for a moment before sitting back and handing the binoculars to Samantha. "I think I know what it is."

Samantha frowned, taking the binoculars and searching for what Sam had seen. She lowered the binoculars after only a moment. "They're moving the hostages."

"And we're going to follow," Sam agreed.

When Sam finally pulled the car to a stop, Samantha took a deep breath. "This is the last property Michael and I checked," she told Sam, indicating her shoulder. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You think that's how they're going to kill them?"

Samantha shrugged. "Could be. How much time do we have?"

Sam glanced at his watch. "Seventeen minutes. Let's move."

They hurried out of the car, grabbing the P90s Fi had supplied them with, although Samantha wasn't aware that they were Fi's, and hurried to the building. A shout of warning came from one of Frank's men and the shooting began. Sam tried to keep his eyes on Virgil and Ruth, who had recognized him by now and were being dragged into the half of the building Michael and Samantha had been trapped in. The men who were holding Virgil and Ruth shoved them back, sprinting back to the fight while the false wall fell with surprising speed. Sam swore under his breath, motioning to Samantha where the hostages were. She nodded, beginning to make her way toward the panel.

Before she could get there, however, one of Frank's men reached it, slamming hard on one of the buttons. Samantha frowned, watching the wall for it to start to rise. After several moments passed, she suddenly realized that there must have been more than one button on the panel… One to open and close the wall, one to start up the rifles. Sam realized this about the same time as Samantha and growled. They may have failed saving Virgil and Ruth, but he wasn't about to surrender to these goons shooting at them.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	33. Epilogue

Michael took a deep, shuddering breath as he slowly lowered his SIG. He was in a bit of a daze as he tucked the SIG back in his pants and pulled out his phone. He glanced at the time, winced, and hit the speed dial.

_"Mike."_

"Sam. Tell me that you got them."

_"They're fine," _Sam assured him gruffly. _"But it's not thanks to me and Samantha. We actually thought we'd failed at the rescue."_

Michael frowned as he turned from his father's body, walking back to the Charger. "What are you saying?"

_"I'm saying…"_ Michael could hear Sam sigh unhappily. _"There's someone else you should thank. Not us."_

Michael wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. It turned out, however, that he didn't need to because Sam had apparently handed the phone to that someone else.

_"Michael."_

Michael stopped mid-step at the sound of the voice over the receiver. He felt something squeeze hard around his heart and something rather like a stone drop into his stomach. He opened his mouth to reply, but found no sound was coming out of it as his mind reeled, trying to comprehend the voice he had just heard.

_"They were taken to that property you and Samantha were trapped at. I just blew a hole in the wall before the rifles started shooting."_

Finally Michael found his voice. "Fi," he gasped.

_"You're welcome,"_ Fi said, without acknowledging the fact that she'd just dropped a metaphorical bomb on Michael's head. Michael fought to find the right words for this type of a situation but apparently Fi had given the phone back to Sam.

_"We'll meet you at your mom's?"_ Sam asked, also ignoring the importance of this revelation. Michael nodded, shaking himself back into the moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there in a few."

XxXxX

Michael jumped out of the Charger, almost tripping over his own feet as he scurried towards the woman his eyes were fixed on. She was alive! She was alive! Michael winced at the dark bruise on her neck, but it didn't matter anymore, she was alive!

He stopped just inches from her, suddenly recognizing the look on her face. She was completely stiff, staring at him hard and expressionless.

"Fi..." Michael whispered, reaching a hand out to touch her. He dropped it awkwardly, however, unsure of himself. "I... I'm so sorry..."

Fi was silent, still staring at him, a strange and unfamiliar look in her eyes. Michael raised a hand again to brush her face. Fi flinched, taking an involuntary step back. Michael froze, terrified by her reaction.

"Sorry isn't enough," she said, voice rough. Then she turned, walking away into the house, leaving Michael paralyzed.

A/N: For anyone who might be curious, this is how I picture Frank (just take out the spaces): http ://www .imdb .com /media /rm4082473216 /nm0000313

Now it's time for my customary thank yous! :)

First, thank you to my roommate and my sister (the Sisters one for those of you read my other stuff), who let me read chapters to them and get all uber geeky to them.

Thank you to Matt Nix for creating this fantabulous show. Also thank you to Jeffrey Donovan, Gabrielle Anwar, Bruce Campbell and Sharon Gless for being AMAZING.

Special shout out to Crazy Computer's Vendetta and lovedietcoke!

Thank you to anyone who had read or reviewed or will read or review this. You're fabulous and I love you. No, really, I do. 3

Be sure to check out the sequel to this: **Demons**, which I will be posting immediately after posting this. I mean, really. Does the story seem done to you? And who remembers that chick in the beginning who told Michael Maddy had been kidnapped because Nate owed bad people money from gambling? Yeah, she's coming back. :)

And, for the last time in Monsters...

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


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